Worse Reaper EVER
by FawnspiritForever
Summary: I have this nasty habit of blowing things up. I'm always being mistaken for the opposite gender. My killjoy mentor loathes me. I'm self absorbed and naive. I'm partnered with a ladykilling moron. And suddenly I'm assigned a murder case? ME, the worse reaper ever, with nothing but intuition and a weed whacker? ...I'm screwed.
1. That Reaper, Somewhat Pyro

**A/N: Welcome, one and all, to Worse. Reaper. EVER., my first fanfiction on this site, and thank you for clicking! Welcome to a story of murders, mystery, darkness, a couple pots of coffee, a whole lot of overtime and, as the title suggests, possibly the worse grim reaper the Death God Dispatch Society has ever seen. I'm extremely excited for this and I hope you enjoy. As a disclaimer, I'm not cool enough to own the canon characters. That honor is Yana Toboso's. **

**And with that, let our tale begin~!**

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><p>William T. Spears was, plain and simple, not amused.<p>

I guess he never was, but maybe some days more so than others...and if I had to, I'd put it as a 'not amused more so then others' kind of day.

But I couldn't blame him.

I gave a squeamish smile, wiping thick, black char off of my right cheekbone with a knuckle and tucking my other hand behind my back. "Hi."

My response was a glare.

No? Okay, better try again. "I...I, uh, can explain..."

His eyes flickered from mine, to the house on fire, slowly burning to the ground, collapsing in on itself behind me, back to me, back to the bonfire dwelling. "I'm eager to hear it."

"Right! So, there's this gunpowder in the house, right? And there's this candle, like, an inch away from it. I mean who does that? And I was running...and, um, may have tripped...and-"

"You're saying this was an accident?"

Yes! That was 99.9 percent true, it _was_ an accident. But if he asked me if I regretted my mistake and I said yes I'd be lying. "Yes sir. ...Oh, come on, it's not like there was anyone still alive in there!"

He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and cradling his elbow in his palm. "That's not the point. We are to leave no evidence of our past presence except for a corpse, not setting the house ablaze. Do you understand this has been your fourth 'accident' on collection runs? In order to be successful at your task you must learn to keep yourself under control. Restrained."

"I tried that once. Ever so dull."

"It's not about dull, it's about precision and completion. It is etched into the sacred code of the death god we must abide to as to work swiftly, diligently and with no emotion."

"Easy for you to say, you big black blob!"

Hi. I'm Chastity Kingsley. Nice to meet you. And yes, that was indeed sarcasm.

Believe me when I say I could go on for hours about myself, but I'll spare you a favor and give the quick version.

First off, I'm a grim reaper, which means one day I might kill you. However, as we go, I'm rather young. Normally this wouldn't be an issue. We're created and are put through an academy and circuit training classes to learn the necessary skill sets to be announced a full-fledged one, guided by a general homeroom teacher if you will with individual work done one-on-one with a tutor. You complete those years, graduate of your grades are above a certain standard, and work your way up through ranks from there.

I, however, was a...special case.

Even though I graduated (D in etiquette, D+ in written- which wasn't _terrible _once you got past the fact that I spelt 'I' wrong- and an A- in practical technique...good enough to pass!), they had tacked me onto a mentor to "further continue my curriculum". That's a nice way of telling the students they failed miserably and need a babysitter to clip them on a leash outside of school. Understandable though, as much as I hate to say.

For example, the laughably bad notes on my final report card;

Weaknesses: Lazy, extremely inattentive, loud, pyromantic tendencies, self-centric, very stubborn, no forethought, shockingly rude, doesn't react well to lack of attention, doesn't listen, barely ever stops talking, dimwitted, sarcastic

Strengths: …Eager

…Well, if nothing else, I'm eager.

So the arses in charge at the academy paired me up with William as his apprentice after I graduated. I guess they had good intentions in their thought process- William is the definition of professionalism, orderly work habits, calmness and all that- so they thought that if they took the practical delinquent from school and paired her up with him she'd learn from him, eventually molding into the perfect cookie-cutter grim reaper they strived to make.

It wasn't working out so far.

My energetic, independent, fiery demeanor clashed horribly with his strict, emotionless, bloody _boring _one and did nothing for the cause they presented other than make us hate each other more.

"Big black blob? …You're really immature," came my unimpressed reply, snapping me back to reality.

"I'm here, right now, as your out-of-academy apprentice. Did you really expect me to be?"

"Is it too much to ask for you not to set fire to dwellings or other various objects and to not insult me with names that sound like they come from Mr. Sutcliff?"

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Stop acting like you know best all the time."

"One; never. Three; where's the fun in that?"

I gave a satisfied smirk at the frustrated twitch of my senior's eyebrow as I tossed my nape-of-neck length honey brown hair, the unruly ends brushing against my fingertips. I looked down at my clothing now smudged with the tar colored explosion stains. Oh, pity.

Because there was absolutely no way in hell I was wearing those tight, movement restricting women's uniforms I was expected to- a pressed, crisp business jacket with stiff knee-length pencil skirts of which hems were about as big around as my thigh- and the murderous high heels, much to my all-knowing mentor's objection, I sported nearly the same clothes as him, the men's uniform. Alterations, of course. I swapped out the default black tie for a royal purple one, didn't wear the hot and heavy jacket in favor of rolling my sleeves up elbow length, and switched the dress shoes for more comfortable formal-looking sneakers.

Apart from that, I looked pretty much standard. I had the sonic, neon lime green eyes as all of us did…which, unfortunately, consequently meant horrible eyesight, so I had huge, thick black-rimmed glasses custom made as soon as got out of school.

Death scythe wise, if you think I'm patient enough to wait for a legal modification warrant or have enough motivation to do all the paperwork, that's cute. Admittedly I illegally changed my newbie sickle (which _suck_, by the way) into my glorious weapon today. A long, dull green instrument revved to life with a flip of a switch that I had so named a weed whacker, a threatening circular blade at the end which will most likely be the last thing you'll ever see.

…And it's not like William figured it out yet or anything.

Once again, I snapped back into focus to Mr. Happy angrily ranting at me in a monotone voice, which could be either frustrating or hilarious, depending on how you look at it. "You are to collect and organize all the souls on this mission we have just completed as punishment, including the ones from the house you just blew up."

Did he not understand the word _accident_? Jesus. "Aw, c'mon!"

He folded his arms. "You will be done by curfew and if not, awarded overtime. I believe I have made myself clear."

I pouted. "You want me to walk all the way back to the library?

"Yes."

"But-"

"Clear, Miss Kingsley?"

I sighed, tucking my whacker under the crook of my elbow to cross my arms, grumbling unhappily under my breath. "Clear," I muttered.

William looked behind him. "Good. Report back to the library to do your work. I'll finish up collecting the rest of the souls."

I paused, raising my eyebrows expectantly at him.

"Yes?"

I tipped my head. "Aren't you gonna call a carriage for me?"

William glanced back to me, arching an eyebrow and shooting me a 'You're-really-an-idiot-aren't-you' look. "Why on Earth would I waste money just to call a carriage for a rude apprentice who is too lackadaisical to actually use her legs and walk the simple mile back to the library?"

"...Because your lackadaisical apprentice doesn't want to?"

"I have had enough of this disgusting incompetence. Just go." And he took off deeper into the heart of London until his black hair and his black suit (and his black personality) disappeared into the black shadows of the night.

I mumbled and spat out cusses that William would've washed my mouth out with soap had he heard. I played with my whacker before letting out a breath of defeat, coming out as a little puff of steam in the cool, crisp night air. I yawned and stretched, beginning the trek back to the place I knew best.

I knew the path by heart- I could've walked it blindfolded, backwards, hopping on one foot (but that would be ridiculous). Everything was so familiar- the brush of the bush's crooked branches against my fingertips, the fresh air swirling around me, encasing me with scents of the grass over the rolling hills, the sweet aroma of the roses dotting the landscape, the faint warm smells of freshly baked bread wafting from the marketplace over yonder. A tiny smile touched my lips. Home.

Well, actually, home was just over the hill.

The Death God Library stood as magnificently as ever. At least twenty or so stories high (but I'm pretty sure it was even more), a gleaming silvery blue when in presented in the shining sunlight. The rooms were countless- and for good reason. Not only did the library serve as a library containing the life story of every deceased human ever to live in England (which would've been enough as it is), but also as our offices.

Oh, and did I mention we live there, too? Yeeeeah.

The top five levels served as dorms for all of us. Most of us had our own rooms, but some- especially newbies- had to share. I had my own, thank God- almost all other reapers were neatfreaks and would've gone absolutely ballistic sharing my pigsty of a room with me. I guess I could still be considered a newbie, but only because I was young and inexperienced- I passed my exams, after all. My grades were embarrassing, sure, but enough for me to skate by by the skin of my teeth. I do not wish to go over this topic again.

I sighed, walking to the front doors and swinging them open. I felt a tiny shudder run down my back, prickling my spine with electricity or force field or _something_. This wasn't anything unusual, of course, I had grown used to it- it happened every time I walked in. Not me in particular, everyone. It was the library's way of checking that only death gods entered, as no other beings were allowed unless escorted in by a one, which rarely ever happened, given that other beings aren't SUPPOSED to come in here. The little shock was completely harmless to us death gods. Others, not so much. (I've heard rumors about Grell bringing a demon in here once…and a fallen angel. I call bullshit, that could never happen!)

I nodded a greeting to a few fully-suited reapers huddled in a cluster near the entrance, propping my scythe up against the wall and rolling up my sleeves, just how I liked them.

As almost everything I did, it was disapproved. (Oh, what did they know?)

I trudged up the stairs, stopping at the third floor to duck left, collapsing into my desk, propping my elbows up on my desk. I slid my palms under my glasses to rub my bleary eyes, blinking to readjust them. I scanned my messy desk, my gaze coming to rest on a stack of paperwork half my height waiting patiently for me.

I groaned.

This was gonna be a long night.

_Nothing exciting is ever happening to me._

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><p><strong><strong>AN: And there's the first chapter. This serves as an introduction to Chastity and her world- the main plot will kick in soon, I promise. This'll be shown more later in the story, but basically, you know that one friend you have that is constantly talking, never listens, never shuts up, and too hyperactive to sit still for two seconds? (...I'll admit, I'm that friend in my little group. ._.' Lol) But yeah, that's her. XD So. Hope you all liked it! Reviews would be amazing, so thank you. The next chapter will be up soon!****


	2. That Reaper, Partnership

**A/N: Yay! Two reviews, that makes me happy. 8D In a quick reply to them;**

**posion1234- I agree with every word you said. I love Ronnie! He's my fave reaper and always will be. (And yeah, he needs more stories. ...don't worry, I read the M and yaoi ones, too. XD) And oh my god I'm freaking OBSESSED with the musical. I've seen it about seven million times (I'm learning the Shinigami dance~) and it's still absolutely amazing. Eric and Alan...oh God, I still cry every time. T_T Anyway, thanks for reviewing! ^^**

**TheApocolypticZombie- I discussed this with you at school, so not much to say here. XD (P.S. ...MEOW!)**

**Kaykay. Enjoy this chapter- I think you'll all be pleased to find there'll be familiar faces to find...;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2- That Reaper, Partnership<strong>

"Well. Doesn't someone look tired?"

I shot him a glare. "Oh, shut up."

"C'mon. I bet you anything I got more overtime than you last night."

"Oh yeah? Try me."

"Three hours."

"Four hours, beat you. Now give me coffee. I need it."

He laughed, handing me a mug, tipping a container over so that the chocolate brown liquid fell into a perfect cascade in the cup clutched in my grip. "Yes. Yes you do. Bottoms up." He held his mug up.

I grinned, clinking mine to his. "Bottoms up, Blondie." We chugged it down in one gulp each.

Ronald Knox was a fellow trainee of mine, a subordinate to Grell Sutcliffe. (Lucky. _He_ got the fun mentor.) We were about the same age as well, and I considered him an incredibly close friend- he was one of the only reapers who could stand me, after all. He had been assigned my partner on missions, which I didn't receive a lot because of William vetoing nearly every case I was sent, saying I was "incapable of completing such tasks". Yeah? Well, it's not like he's any better, the bloody little son of- nopenope. Not gonna use those words. Mean words. Not good.

He was quite the striking guy- he had bright golden blonde hair with a very, very subtle orangey sort of tinge to it which quickly switched to a raven black underneath it. It was mostly flipped over to one side in a messy-casual sort of way, a single lock sticking straight up, curving in a crescent above his head. He wore the standard suit- nothing really interesting there- with a miniature pocket watch clamped onto his right wrist on a silver band. He called it a wristwatch. I called it shiny. His glasses were thick and shaped vaguely like rounded upside-down pentagons, blindingly white Oxfords over gray socks on his feet, and- of course- the sonic lime eyes like every one of us had.

He was energetic and outgoing, yet still calm in contrast to me. Yes, he was a ladies man. Yes, it was _bloody_ annoying, but whatever. His scythe was what he called an Automated Lawn Trimmer, or a lawnmower, for short. He could ride around on it and often used it to impress girls. Pfft. Showoff.

But. Partner are partners, and- out of all the stuck-up neat freak reapers in the London branch- I was glad to be stuck with Ronald.

I finished the slightly bitter drink, gazing down into my empty cup and softly smiling. "Coffee. Coffee makes the world go 'round, Ronnie."

He nodded. "Agreed." His mouth opened wide in a yawn, placing one arm straight up into the air behind his head and gently tugging on it with the other in a luxurious stretch. "Ugh...I might need another cup."

I giggled and refilled his. "Yeah. Same." I gulped down another mug. "So. Any plans for today? Like, know what we're doing?"

Ronald sighed. "Do we ever? Not a clue," he replied, quietly sipping his coffee and shrugging. "Grell usually gives us the reports for the day."

"Well, where is h-"

"Good morning, darlings~!"

"...Nevermind."

A beaming man with long locks of flaming scarlet and glasses, heels and a coat to match strode gracefully down the stairs, his hand slightly cupping and swishing back and forth in a princess-esque wave. He walked over to where we were standing in the kitchen area, the middle of the room where the island with the coffee pot was located, flashing us grins full of razor-sharp shark like fangs. "And how are my dear Ron Ron and Chassy doing this morning?"

Yes, Chassy.

He called me that since the day we met, describing it as "cute, sweet, short, simple, and it rhymes with BASSY!" As for what the hell Bassy was I had no idea, so I politely smiled and nodded, hoping he'd forget the embarrassing nickname and just call me Chastity or Chas.

He never did. Course, it could've been worse.

My nickname could've been Ron Ron.

Ronald rubbed his temple, obviously annoyed by his nickname, as well. "Um, good morning, Mister Grell."

"Oh, for the last time, call me Miss!" Grell said haughtily, placing a few fingers on his heart and tilting his chin up in a snappy sort of position. "I am a _lady_."

"...Good morning, Miss Grell."

Grell smiled, clasping his hands together, satisfied. "Ah! Much better!" He captured us both in an iron-gripped hug. I'm pretty sure my eyes would've popped out of my head if he hadn't let go. "Did you two sleep well?"

I nodded. Better to lie and give him a satisfying answer than vice versa. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you. And you?"

Grell frowned slightly. "Oh, yes, yes, but it would be better had I had a handsome man to share in slumber with. In bed." A dreamy, distant grin spread across his face, and his eyes clouded. Great. He was off in La La Land again.

I cleared my throat. "Grell."

He swooned, throwing his arms around himself and running his hands up and down his sides, cooing like a pidgeon.

"GRELL. DUDE."

Grell blinked, startled, looking at me like he had just realized I was there. "Oh. Hello, Chassy."

I groaned. "What are Ronnie and I gonna be doing today?"

He frowned, tipping his head. "Oh. Um...Will had something in mind, but I can't remember exactly what it was. Something important. Uh..." He scratched his head. "I dunno. You can go ask him."

Ronald shrugged. "'Kay. Assuming he's up in his office?"

I laughed. "When ISN'T he, man?"

He snickered. "Good point."

Grell looked offended. "When he's with me, of course! Can you not see the utter passion burning in his eyes whenever his beautiful, longing gaze falls upon such beauty as mine?"

"...Yes, Grell." Like I said- smile and nod, smile and nod.

"Well, go off, you two- I still need to finish touching up my mascara!"

And just as quickly as the flamboyant, crimson-haired, gender-confused reaper had appeared, he was gone again.

I sighed, tucking my hands in my pockets. "Well. That was helpful."

"Could've gone worse."

"Right. Well, then, _Ron Ron_, let's head up to Will."

He glared at me. "Call me that again and I will kill you."

I smirked. "Alright, alright, Blondie, don't get your knickers in a twist." His glare intensified and I snickered. "C'mon."

"Fine," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "Lead the way, _Chassy_."

"You first, _Ron Ron_."

"Never. I am a gentleman. Ladies first, _Chassy_."

"'Gentleman'? Try 'playboy', Ron Ron."

"I am not! Only a purebred, kind, respectful gentleman like myself would allow ladies first ever and always, Chassy."

"Oh, but my dearest Ron Ron, I insist," I hissed back, putting my hands on my hips and staring him down in a standoff position challengingly.

"Chassy, Chassy, Chassy, aren't you a sweetie? But going first would be rude of me. Please." He placed one hand over his heart and tucked the other behind his back, dipping low at the waist in a sarcastic bow.

I narrowed my eyes. "You little-"

"Chassy! Ron Ron! Stop releasing sexual tensions so loudly down there, it's screwing up my concentration while I put my makeup on~!" An irritated, whiny, high-pitched voice floated from the floor directly above us.

We both glanced up and sighed, bowing our heads. "Sorry, Grell," we muttered half-heartedly in reply simultaneously.

With the only response being a _FINALLY_ sort of hmph from our higher-up (ironically physically higher up as well), silence once again fell.

Ronald and I were close friends, but could definitely be at each other's throats sometimes- he would deliberately say or do something to set me off, I'd explode, and we'd try to kill each other with our wits until an adult stopped us. Like siblings growing up in the same house. ...Wait, no, screw that simile, that's ridiculous- since we're technically gods, we have no DNA per say, so we have no relatives, and we ALL live in the same house.

But. He was my partner. Which meant- like it or not- I was to be stuck with the dual-haired showoff until said otherwise.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Anyway," I muttered, "If you're done with your coffee, we should go see what important stuff Grell was talking about that William has for us."

"I was just going to suggest that."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"Was not."

"Was too. I thought of it first."

"You did not, Blondie!"

"Did too!"

"Di-"

"AGAIN WITH THE SEXUAL TENSION?"

We glared at each other, our gazes sharp as the blades of two swords swinging against one another in a battle to the death. Which, most of the time, it was.

I set down my mug and turned heel to stride across the floor, sharply turning to the staircase and darting up it. I climbed up to about the fifth or sixth floor, where some of the main offices were located. I jogged down the hallway and came to rest in front of the eighth door down the hall on the left. I softly ran my fingertips over the gold plated 806 inscribed on the wood, then curled my hand into a fist and pounded on the door. "Yo. Will. Open up, Grell said you had something for me."

"Hello? _Us_?" came an irritated voice behind me.

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up Blondie, no one cares. Anyway-"

The door opened, revealing my stern-faced superior looking down at me disapprovingly. "I told you not to call me that. You really have no respect for your higher-ups."

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, boss. What is it?"

He shifted, his gaze turning from me to Ronald and me again. He bowed his head and sighed. "Just so there's no confusion, I personally vetoed this, but _my_ boss said I had to give this to you…" He stood back and swung open the door, gesturing inside. "Come in. Don't touch anything."

Being a senior reaper (I'm not saying he's old- but he is-, I'm just saying he's experienced.), William's office was wide and spacious, at least 20 by 20, while the rest of us subordinates and apprentices got bloody _desks_. Totally unfair by my standards. I was awed by the fact that he had all this space and managed to keep every single square inch perfectly organized. Papers were neatly stacked on one side of his polished dark cherry wood desk, the brass handles of the drawers upon it gleaming in the sunlight flowing in from the crystal-clear windows. Fountain pens- arranged from longest to smallest- rested neatly by his clipboard, the small vat of ink needed to write with sitting patiently nearby. Honestly, my desk couldn't have been more than 3 feet long and looked like a freaking pigsty.

The three of us entered and William sat carefully behind his desk, glancing up at us. I walked over to sit in one of the chairs facing his desk and he shook his head. "Stand, please."

"…Seriously? I can't even sit?"

"My office, my rules. Now…" He leaned back to tug open a drawer, pulling out a cream colored folder and gingerly setting it down so it was facing up. "This should explain it. Once again, I had no say in the matter of assigning this, so keep that in mind as you look through it."

I cocked my head and reached down for it, but Ronald had beaten me to it and was flipping through the contents. I emitted a tiny growl of frustration before walking behind him, standing on my tiptoes and gently putting my arms around his neck for support to peak over his shoulder. "What is it, Ronnie?"

Ronald's eyes widened and he closed the folder in shock before I even got the chance to read it, snapping his head up to stare at William like he had just seen a ghost. "My God, boss, are you serious?"

William sighed, propping his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers to rest his chin on. "Unfortunately. I would've given this to a more experienced and mature reaper or duo, but the head worker thought it'd be good to engage underlings like yourself."

I would've been more offended if I hadn't been so curious. "What? What is it?"

"B-But boss," stuttered Ronald. "Just the two of us? On _this_? Without assistance or anything? I've done things like this before, but I've always had a superior with me!"

"Tell me what it is, god dammit!"

"Yes, Mister Knox, I'm fully aware. Try not to die on this."

"WHAT THE HELL IS IT?" I hadn't meant to yell, but the way they were talking like I was there was seriously ticking me off.

Silently, the blonde passed me the folder, white as a bed sheet. I quirked an eyebrow at him before resting my eyes down in front of me. I opened the folder softly, my gaze flicking over the info sheet on top of the papers inside.

_Case #875-9362_

_Crime: Mass murder_

_Culprit: Unknown_

_Weapon Used: Unknown_

_Method of Killing: Unknown_

_Current Number of Victims: 16. 1 was a death god._

_Further Notes:_

_-The victim's bodies seemed unharmed_

_-It is possible the murderer was inhuman, for the only way to kill a death god is with a scythe_

_-Most killings happen between 21 o'clock and 23 o'clock_

_-Victims seem to have nothing in common with each other_

_-The victim's were not on the recent death list_

I already had a bad feeling about this and an even worse nagging theory forming in the back of my head. I told myself it wasn't true. They wouldn't put me up to it. But the last seven words of the report confirmed my awful prediction.

_Case Workers: Ronald Knox and Chastity Kingsley_


	3. That Reaper, Champion of Laughter

**A/N: 6 reviews already? 8D My god, you guys, you spoil me. Thanks~! Um, ignore the random threes in the last Author's Note, I was trying to do the heart symbol, but for some reason, it's not working…oh well. Anywho. This chapter was a blast to write! Adding in another familiar face, so enjoy. ;) Oh, and by the way, this takes place post-musical. Just thought I should mention that. And since I figured out how to reply to individual reviews, I don't need to reply to them here anymore, so I'll just say thank you to poision1234, TheApocalypticZombie, XxAlexMarihaReyesxX, NightShadeShovel and FinnyGirlTillIDie. ^^ And without further ado, on with the story!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3- That Reaper, Champion of Laughter<strong>

"…You're freaking kidding me. YOU'RE FREAKING KIDDING ME. YOU'RE FRICKING DAFT. YOU'RE BLOODY BONKERS! THIS IS A SUICIDE MISSION, FOR GOD'S SAKE! Look, whoever this murderer is, they figured out how to kill _US_, and that NEVER happens. How do you expect a pair of rookies like us to solve this and stay alive?"

A sigh. "My thoughts exactly. Apologies, Miss Kingsley, but I have no power over this. It's already been decided. My higher-up says it's good for young reapers to learn this kind of thing while they're still training for the future. Personally, I think it's mad, and think it's nothing but a homicide idea, but his word is law. I can only wish you luck and hope you don't get killed."

"Yeah, but considering it's us, would you really mind if we died?" muttered Ronald.

William rolled his eyes. "Favoritism wise, I won't lie and say the two of you are at the top of the list, but death is another thing altogether. It is not my wish to see you, her, or any death gods dead- I'd mind Sutcliffe's death the least, but that's another story. The point is you two better be careful."

"Right. Complicated. So. Bottom line: Solve the case and stay alive. You writing this down, Ronnie?"

William glared. "This isn't a time for jokes, Miss Kingsley. I'd suggest first you two go for information."

I put my hands on my hips. "Right. And I'm going to have to use black magic to conjure it out of thin air because I spent all my wishing well coins."

Ronald snickered and William just folded his arms in a you're-not-as-funny-as-you-think-you-are sort of way. "I wasn't talking about silly superstitions."

"Silly superstitions? …Says the grim reaper…"

"I mean that there's a certain place where you can get it." I opened my mouth to speak, but he just scowled and cut me off. "And before you say it, no, I do not mean Santa Clause's workshop."

I stuck my tongue out at him and Ronald cocked his head. "Where do you mean?"

William shifted then leant back in his chair, his gaze slowing sweeping from one of us to the other. He words were slow, careful, drawn out and wary, the contrast between the tone of his voice and the his speech just making the sentence sound even more odd. "Miss Kingsley, Mister Knox…how many good jokes do you know?"

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><p>"I've said it once today, and I'll say it again…you've got to be effing kidding me."<p>

Icy winds buffeted my small frame, chilling me straight through my thin skin right to the bone. It whipped the choppy locks of my short golden brown hair around my face and threatened to carry my glasses off with it. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to generate any warmth I could. I let out a tiny breath which instantly turned to a puff of air against cold winter's air.

And as to why William was sending us here, out of all places, bested even _my _superior knowledge. (Which I have…that no one else seems to recognize…for some reason…)

He had sent me and my partner to a small grey building just off the roads of mainstream London- close enough to the city to be easily accessible by foot (even for me), but not enough to be considered part of the downtown city. The large letters sprawled across the top spelt out one very simple word and one word only- Undertaker.

How the hell was an _Undertaker _gonna help?

Ronald was standing beside me, looking just as cold as I did. He took a carefully folded map out of his inside pocket and unraveled the paper, warm from his body heat. He flicked his gaze over it, frowning, as if it was only making him more confused. "Th-this is the right place, alri-right…b-but seriously, wh-what's an Undertaker gonna d-do, huh?" he asked between chattering teeth.

"M-my thoughts exactly…b-but i-if Will said th-this is the p-place, then th-this is the place…" I walked forward to gently rap my white knuckles, color drained from the biting cold, against the oaken wood of the beaten down door and stood back, patiently waiting.

No reply.

I tilted my head and knocked again. "H…Hello?"

"Oh? Visitors?" A high-pitched, throaty laugh. "Splendid! Oh my, my, do come in!"

I glanced back at Ronald, who just shrugged and nodded. I complied, gently unhitching the golden handle and swinging it open.

Coffins littered the floor, and the stench of death was absolutely overwhelming. I coughed, but was thankful for the temperature to be substantial again. I looked around. It was a dusty old place, broken light streaming in from curtains partially covered with tattered charcoal curtains speckled with holes snapping around in the wind like a flag on a pole. I coughed and waved a hand rapidly in front of my mouth to try to wave away the swirls of dust in the air. I looked around, leaning over to Ronald and whispering. "Tell me…was it just my imagination? I could've SWORN I heard someone in here, but…"

Ronald shrugged. "I know. Me too. But there's no one he-"

"Oh! 'Ello! Wot a lovely surprise!" The first word my brain registered: Cockney. The second: …where the hell was that coming from? …okay, in all fairness, that's six words, but still.

I snapped my head around to the sound, but all that seemed to provide the words was a coffin rested vertically up against the wall.

My eyes widened in fear and I gripped Ronald's forearm tightly. "Oh. My. God. It's a talking coffin."

"…or there's someone inside it."

"Right you are~!" The lid slid open so slowly and dramatically I was half-expecting an ensemble to come out and play eerie music to accompany it.

The first thing I saw was eyes- a pair of eyes glowing in the darkness provided by the interior of the coffin the…whatever it was was in. They were an awfully familiar shade, but I had no further time to investigate, as the lid was removed completely and hair instantly fell over them.

In the coffin stood a grinning man with sterling silver hair so long it could give Grell's a run for its money. Unruly bangs covered his eyes, and a few thin, braided locks tumbled over his shoulder and down his back. He was decked in pitch black flowing robes with a light grey sash thrown on over it, a matching top hat with an extension of the top that reached his ankles balancing on his head. A Frankenstein sort of scar stretched over his face and his mouth was curved into a toothy grin as he amusedly traced a long, dark fingernail over his lip. "My, my. Alivers who enter my shop? Rare indeed, rare indeed…now, what may I do for you today?"

…this man had all the lookings of a rapist. "Um. Hi. Yes, I'm looking for information of the killings that've been happening recently…?"

"Information, you say?" he purred, leaning forward. "How good is your sense of humor, eh?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Ronald frowned. "Why? Yes, yes, she's a bucket of laughs and all…how much will information cost?" he asked, absentmindedly digging through his pocket for pounds.

The man nearly looked offended. "Wot- money? Naw, I don't want any of yer quid." His voice dropped lower and softer as he delicately leant forward. "I want something more than that."

Yup.

Definitely a rapist.

"Wh-what?" I sputtered out.

"You, my dear little lamb, yes…I want you to give me the best gift of all…" he murmured quietly, his voice husky, just barely above a whisper. He softly traced the tip of his fingernail across my cheek. I quivered and felt Ronald stiffen beside me.

"…LAUGHTER~!" The man broke off into a fit of giggles, twirling around the room.

We stared, boggled. I wish I could've seen our faces- our 'WHAT THE HELL' expressions must've been pretty priceless. Ronald glanced over to me, whistled and twirled a finger around his temple.

I blinked at the man. "…You'll tell us everything you know…if we make you…laugh?"

The man spun around to face us again, beaming and enthusiastically nodding. "Yes! Yes yes yes! Oh yes, PLEASE!"

Oh. So this was what William meant.

"…Fair deal." Ronald glanced at me expectantly. "Well, Chas? Go ahead. Make the nice man here laugh, please."

I paused, racking my brain for good jokes, but found none. I slowly trailed my eyes to Ronald. "Why…don't…you?"

"…Because you're funnier?" He obviously had the same issue.

"You do it."

"You do it."

"You do it first!"

"I told you to do it first, you do it!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Did too!"

"Dammit Ronnie, just go!"

"You first, Chassy."

"THIS AGAIN? REALLY?"

"APPARENTLY."

"I can't think of anything right now! YOU!"

"Neither can I! YOU!"

"DAMMIT. I'M GOING TO BLOODY REAP YOU."

"TRY ME!"

"Ahahahahahaha! Hahaha, oh God, Lord, I can't breathe! Haha…you two are HYSTERICAL…that was brilliant! I-I'll tell you everything! Anything! Hahahaha! Hehe…"

We both turned in surprise at the undertaker literally rolling on the floor laughing, clutching his stomach. He flipped over on his stomach to kick wildly and pound one fist into the ground, laughing maniacally. The two of us stared as the man finally regained his composure, managing to stand up.

"Hehe…the way you two act like an old married couple, HA! So. What did you want to know, little death gods?"

My eyes widened. "D-death gods?" I squeaked out. How the hell did he know? "Th-that's ridiculous, death gods don't even exis-"

"Your eyes give it all away. I'd know those eyes anywhere. And the glasses that go along with them just confirm it."

Ronald shifted nervously. "H…how'd you know in the first place?"

"Excellent question. Quick answer." In one swift motion, the man tucked a hand under his bangs and flipped them up, revealing eyes of an unnatural shade of sonic golden-green eyes with soft mossy irises instead of black ones.

There was only one species in the world that had that kind of eyes- and it sure as heck wasn't humans.

I blinked. "Y-you! You're a death god too! You're one of us! You're the guy with the statue in the library! Oh my God, I can't believe-"

He instantly put his bangs back down. "We're not here to relieve the past. Now, how about that information you young ones wanted, huh?"

Ronald seemed just as stunned as I did that this creepy old whackjob was a legendary reaper but was somehow able to form words. "U-um. Can you tell us about the murders, please?"

"Sure. Anythin' in particular ya wanna know?"

"No, just…information in general, please."

"Alrighty then." He vanished for a moment and reappeared towing a skeleton behind him, grinning. "See, the murders here are curious, very curious indeed…" He ran his spindly fingers over the milky white ribs. "Usually, killers don't really care if they make much of a mess of things. There's usually cuts here-" He gestured to the neck bones. "-here-" He brought his hand back up to the ribcage. "-and here." He flipped it over, swirling his hand over the vertebrae. He slowly smiled. "But no, no, not this murderer, no. Get this- there was no cuts at all. No injury of any sort."

"We already knew tha-"

"Except…" He giggled, slowly running his finger up to circled the teeth. "…Some swelling on the lips. Fascinating, no?"

I frowned. Swelling on the lips? What kind of murder was that?

"And that's not even the most interstin' part." He set the skeleton down, leaning forward. "The thing that captures and holds my attention…three murders, the exact same way, happened on completely opposite sides of town-…at the exact same time."

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><p><strong>AN: Oooooh suspensesuspenseSUSPENSE. Haha. I wrote this entire freaking chapter in two hours with NO PLAN to it whatsoever. Seriously, I made it up as I was writing it. ._. But. From here on out is all planned, so all is good. XD Yay, Undertaker! Woohoo. And more of Ronald and Chastity's bipolar relationship which I love so much. This also gives a bit more of Chastity's smart-aleccy, arrogant personality, which is why she's such a fun character to write. (And BTW when she said it was six words when it was really seven, I know, that was on purpose. XD) So. The mystery heats up on a cliffhanger~ Nyehehe. And so it begins. Reviews are appreciated immensley. Thank you! ^^**


	4. That Reaper, Authorization

**A/N: I'M ALIVE. WOOT. Lol. Sorry I haven't updated in over a week- it's been test after test after test at school, let alone all the chores I have to do here at home to get ready for my grandpa from across the country coming to visit. Anyway- 14 REVIEWS? 8D OH. MY. GOD. That makes me really happy, thank you all so much, it means the world to me! I'm sorry to say this chapter is kinda short, but it's pretty much a transition chapter, a setup for the next one. So. I can't thank all of you who reviewed and faved/subscribed enough! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! ^^**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4- That Reaper, Authorization<strong>

"…Wh-what?"

"I said you two act like an old married couple."

"…Yes, _after_ that."

"Would you like a dog biscuit?"

"Wha- you never said that!"

"No, but I was going to."

I connected my palm to my forehead. "The part about the swollen lips and multiple murders happening at once!"

"Well, why do you need me to restate it if you just said it yourself?"

I groaned. This guy was impossible.

Undertaker still had that Cheshire grin plastered on his face. "The two of you. So amusing. Ah, I remember when I was your age…"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure that's a fascinating story, but we still need information…do you know who the culprit is?"

He shrugged. "Culprit? Oh, no, no, no. I only examine the dead bodies, you see. Keep track of the murders. As for the murderer them self, well…" He laughed. "Now, that's a mystery, is it not?"

Ronald sighed. "Yeah. We got assigned the case, kind of the whole reason we're here and all. Anything else you can tell us?"

Undertaker's ever-present smile stretched wider. "Specifics, little death god?"

"…No… Anything you can give us, really."

The man cocked his head thoughtfully, stroking his chin with a single unnaturally long fingernail. "Well…knowledge of the culprit and further details of the crime I know not of…however, there seems to be one small detail you two are forgetting."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I used to not only be a reaper as well, but a _manager_. I had access to information no one else did. And to be honest- I still do." He leaned forward. "I can't help you on your case, little death gods, however- I _can _tell you where the next murder will take place."

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><p>"Names?"<p>

"Chastity Kingsley."

"Ronald Knox."

"Roland Knox?"

"Rol-? _Ronald_. It's Ronald. Switch the l and the n."

"Okay…occupations?"

"…Trainees, I guess?"

"Supervisors?"

"William T. Stick-up-his-butt Spears."

"Grell Sutcliff."

"Sex?"

"Yes, please. OW! God, Chas, that bloody hurt!"

"Serves you right…the blonde pervert over here is a dude and I'm a girl. It's pretty obvious- was that question _really _necessary?"

"Just verification."

I cast my eyes skyward in annoyance, folding my arms and leaning back against the wall, leaving the two-toned teen beside me to rub the sore spot on his arm, newly born from where I had smacked it. I glanced over at the receptionist questioning us. She adjusted her chocolate hair pulled into a tight bun as she propped her elbows up on her counter to check her nails, emotionless and mind-blowingly bored looking. Almost like a female William. "Anything other-" _Stupid _"-questions you'd like to ask us?"

Not even looking up, she batted her hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. "No. We got it. Go."

I scowled, biting my tongue to resist spewing out a snappy reply about her rudeness. Apparently, in order for rookies like us to be able leave the parameters of the library alone without mentor supervision, we needed to do- you guessed it- more. Bloody. Paperwork. We needed permission slips from our mentors (which literally took freaking HOURS to convince William to sign, you have no idea) as well as giving information to the front desk and we in return received tiny badges that showed that we were qualified to do so. In my point of view, it was the control freaks in charge of the branch putting leashes on us apprentice puppies and keeping tags on us at all times. Absolutely ridiculous.

The receptionist absentmindedly handed us small, golden, halo-shaped badges with pins on the back to clasp on our shirts, her gaze not leaving her all-important nails.

I unhooked mine and slid it through a small patch of the thin white fabric of my shirt, just above my vest, and smoothed it back down. Ronald did the same. I walked back to the counter. "Any special restrictions we have to follow?"

I regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of my mouth. "Yes. No alcoholic drinking, no socializing, no giving out information, no talking to suspicious strangers, no talking to non-suspicious strangers, no reaping unless authorized, no clubbing, no getting romantically involved with humans, no-"

"Can I breathe?"

"…You can breathe." The receptionist was clearly unamused.

I groaned and sorely rubbed my temple. "Geez. Why so many rules? Is this really necessary?"

"Absolutely." The receptionist boredly adjusted her glasses with the free hand not currently under inspection. "After all, we only make these rules because here in the Death God Dispatch Society, safety is our number one priority," she muttered, obviously reciting some statement she was forced to memorize and had droned out many, many times before.

I sighed, glancing at the blonde next to me. "Got that, Ronnie?"

"Mostly," he replied with a shrug, fiddling with the golden pin on his chest, not looking up.

I flicked my gaze around the room. "Grell said he'd be here."

"He's probably touching up on his lipstick or something," murmured Ronald.

I nodded in agreement, placing my hands in a fist behind my back. It took about five minutes for the scarlet reaper to show- and, as my partner had predicted, a fresh, shiny layer of red had recently been applied to his lips. "Hello, my sweeties~!"

I smiled. "Yo, Grell. You got the stuff for us like you said you would?"

"Absolutely!" he chirped. "I've never let you down before, have I?"

I remained silent, figuring this was a bad time to list all the times he's let me down before.

"For you, Knoxie-poo-" I burst into laughter. Knoxie-poo? That was a new one. He held out a crisp, clean night black tuxedo to Ronald, newly pressed and neatly in a clear plastic bag. "It's a shame it's black, it's such a dull color- except when it's Bassy, of course. I still think it'd look far more pretty in red, but I don't really have a say in this."

Ronald grunted with annoyance at the new nickname, but took the tux from Grell's grip into his own. "Thanks."

Grell grinned and nodded eagerly. "Of course!" He pinched Ronald's cheeks, causing the blonde to cringe and flinch.

Ronald looked at me. "And her?"

"Oh, Chassy, of course! I got to choose yours myself!"

…_I'm screwed_.

"It's cute, sweet, adorable, and fabulously, FABULOUSLY red!"

…_I'm really screwed. _

I whimpered. "Oh God."

Grell frowned. "What? What's the matter?"

"Grell…please tell me it isn't a-"

"_IT IS~! _And it's beautiful! When you're done wearing it for the night, darling, would you mind giving it to me? Considering you wouldn't want it anyway."

Now it was Ronald's turn to laugh and me to glare. "Shut up, Knoxie-poo."

"Chassy! Don't use my nicknames! They're…mine!" Grell pouted.

I sighed. "Grell. I'm not. Wearing. It."

"You have to, though!"

"I hereby rebel."

He clasped his fingers together and tucked them under his chin, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. "Oh, come on, Chassy, I picked it especially for you!"

"No way in hell!"

Grell smiled. "Well, you're not gonna be in hell, so it shouldn't be a problem!"

He held out his arms.

…No way was I wearing that red monstrosity which took the name of a dress.

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><p><strong>AN: The dress isn't bad, she just hates dresses in general. XD Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! (Ronnie you little playboy...) I'll get the next one up as soon as I can, though that might be difficult with my grandpa coming in on Sunday. Oh well. Enjoi~ **


	5. That Reaper, Tailor Troubles

**A/N: Yay! Back with another chapter~ ...I lied. It's another transition chapter. I'm sorry. ._.' BUT. Do not despair! The plot kicks back in next chapter, cross my heart and hope to die. Plus, I like to think this chapter is pretty funny. XD I had a TON of fun writing it. Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'll have to go back and reply to the ones I haven't been able to yet, they mean alot to me. Oh, and one more thing; this chapter features a character from the manga. I also had to kind of guess on her colors because there isn't an official colored picture of her, but I think it suits her pretty well. Those of you who know her will probably be able to guess just from the title. XD If you don't, there's a lovely little site just called kuroshitsujimanga .com that lets you read it for free. So, enjoy~! **

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><p><strong>Chapter 5- That Reaper, Tailor Troubles<strong>

Okay. My life was over.

I thought the dress was bad enough- the side effects that came with it were just hell.

"Oh, c'mon, Chassy!" cooed Grell. "The dress is just so CUTE, everything has to be perfect! It's too big for you, so we're simply having it tailored."

"NO."

"Yes! It's adorable and must fit you perfectly or there's no point. Come along, Big Sister insists!"

I dug my heels into the ground, desperately pulling back in an attempt to create resistance between me and the absolutely determined redhead. "No! Nononononono. I don't want to! …And for the last time, you're not my older sister."

"Not by blood, but by heart!" he giggled, reaching back to pinch my cheek. What was I, five?

I recoiled at the transvestite's touch. "Thoughtfulness appreciated, but really, one of these days you're gonna to have to wake up and realize you're a gu-"

"LALALA NOT LISTENING."

I sighed, giving up my efforts to restrain from him as he dragged me up the stairs of a posh little building. He might look delicate- which he did completely on purpose- but he was actually pretty god damn strong. Which I hated. Immensely. At the moment. With the burning passion of a thousand suns.

"Grell," I groaned. "I don't want to do this! No tailor. No dress. Just…just no."

"Aw, cheer up!" he chirped. "You know as well as I do it's necessary."

I was beginning to regret telling them what Undertaker had told us.

I sighed. "Why can't Ronald wear the dress?" I mumbled.

Grell just laughed. "While I'll admit he'd look fabulous in one, let us not forget who the girl here is."

"…That'd be you, sir."

"I'm flattered, but out of the two of you, you're the female. Females wear dresses. It's a common fact."

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from saying _Yes. Females and you._ "Yeah, but Grell, you're more of a girl then I am. I don't LIKE wearing dresses. They're uncomfortable and movement restricting. Can't I just stick to my shirt, vest, trousers and tie? Pleeeeease?"

"It's so unladylike! I put up with you wearing boy's clothes, sure, but it truly appalls me. And now you're asking to wear them to _THAT_? No!"

"Aw, come on! Give me a break!" I whimpered.

Grell let go to saucily put his hands on his hips. "You are wearing the dress to this like any proper young woman should. No ifs, ands, ors or buts, are we clear?"

"Grell. I'm not a proper young woman. Haven't we already established that?"

"Wrong answer." He snatched my wrist and knocked on the door. I whimpered. Oh God.

"Who is it?" came a light, high-pitched female voice from inside.

At this, I only struggled harder. Grell grinned. "It's me! I brought a friend."

"Grell darling, is that you?"

"The one and only!"

"Come in, come in! You and any of your friends are always welcome here, you know that."

Grell smiled at me, opening the door with his free hand and gesturing inside. "After you."

I took a reluctant, heavy step inside, gazing around. Mannequins were splayed here, there, everywhere, dresses of all sorts and sizes hanging off of them. Gowns of dazzling pinks, fluorescent blue, shimmering greens, accompanied by elegant, white and golden trimmed suits and top hats with satin ribbons around the bases and a peacock feather tucked in them thrown here and there. Yellow measuring tapes hung off the lifeless frames like sashes on beauty queens and royalty. This place sent a girly vibe that triggered shivers to run down my spine. A young woman- twenty five, maybe- with bright eyes and glasses and her light brunette hair pulled into a perfectly curled ponytail on one side of her head and a richly decorated hat cocked on top of the other stuck her head out from behind a mannequin sporting a half-finished dress. She wore an exceedingly non-modest, lowcut shirt with a bow hanging at her throat and a tight vest underneath, earthy brown shorts and dark stocking with the straps showing (was this a tailor or a hooker?) that tucked into raven boots. She instantly broke into a smile. "Hi Grell! Who would this little darling be?"

_Little darling? Really? _Grell beamed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. "This is Chassy! What a cutie, right? Anyway, we need a dress tailored, and everyone knows you're the best around."

The woman looked very proud of herself and tucked her palm-length glove sporting hands behind her back. "The best around indeed!"

Grell looked down at me, releasing me and gesturing to the woman. "Chassy, meet Nina Hopkins, the most fabulous tailor in the greater area of London. Nina, Chassy Kingsley. Say hi, Chassy!"

"…Hi."

Nina giggled. "You're so adorable. But may I ask why you're wearing a dress?"

I thought I'd save her the full explanation. It's not like I'd tell a human anyway. "I have my reasons."

"Well, I'm sure you'll look adorable! Do you already have one?"

Grell nodded, answering for me. "Chassy does already have one, it just a bit big and needs to be tailored to fit. I used one of your designs, of course."

"Grell, dear, you flatter me! Now…" Nina whipped a cloth measuring tape wrapping around the still torso and walked over to me. She glanced quickly at Grell. "This may take a bit…feel free to browse while you're waiting."

With a squeal, I watched one of my superiors disappear into the rows of clothing.

Nina turned her attention back to me, flinging the measuring tape over her shoulder. "Be a dear and hold out your arms, please."

I complied, spreading out my arms like a bird in flight.

What I wasn't expecting was for her to come up behind me, throwing one arm around my waist and hiking up my shirt and sliding her hand down the sensitive, newly exposed skin, the other looping under my arm and across the center of my chest, catching a grip and staying there firmly. I let out a sharp yelp. What the hell?

Nina blinked. "Oh, my. You're a girl, aren't you?" she asked, tipping her head, awkwardly placed arms not moving an inch, the hand slowly traveling down my waist showing no intent of stopping.

Flustered, I squirmed, trying to get the tailor and her exploring, groping hands off me. "OI! HANDS OFF!" I yelled.

She swung the measuring tape around me, ignoring me completely. "I'm sorry darling, it's just a bit hard to tell. I thought you were a very slender and curvy boy. It's just rather misleading, dear- your hair is so short and messy and the clothing choice quite threw me off…"

"What? Short hair is easier to manage and the clothes are- QUIT IT!" I tried to shake her off.

Nina pinched one end of the tape to the middle of it where it wrapped around me, squinted to look at the number, then finally released me, tossing it back over her shoulder as she produced a small notebook and fountain pen from her pocket, dashing over to a desk to dip it in ink and scrawl some words and numbers on the paper, before standing up and smiling at me. "Alright. Got the measurements. Do you have the dress with you?"

"Wha-that was only MEASUREMENTS?" Measurements? She was freaking _molesting _me.

Nina nodded casually like it was completely normal. "Of course. Now, do you have the dress with you?"

I blinked. "Uh…no, Grell has it."

"Ah." She smiled, looking over her shoulder. "Grell? I got her measurements…now for the dress, please."

The over-the-top red reaper appeared behind her, holding the disgusting piece of clothing he expected me to wear. He held it out to her, and she ran the tape down it's length and scribbled down the data. She looked back up. "Okay. Should be just a second." She grabbed the bodice and disappeared to the other side of the store.

"Isn't she the best?" chirped Grell.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. "I think she raped me."

"But she makes excellent clothes! I would know, I'm her best customer, of course. And when she says she'll be done in a second, she means it."

"Like, how long are we talking about here?"

"DONE!"

I blinked. For the rapist she seemed to rub off on me as, that was extremely impressive. "Really?"

She bounded back, towing it back behind her. "Yup! Just a few minor adjustments was all it took. Simple, really. Enjoy, Chassy," she said, holding it out to me.

"Um…my name is Chastity…"

"That's great!" she replied absentmindedly, tossing it to me, leaving me to fumble to catch it.

Grell hugged me again. "Thanks, Nina! Working your magic, as always…how much will it be?"

Nina batted her hand in the air. "It was just a small favor for a close friend. Think nothing of it, and consider it free." She gave a blindingly bright smile.

Grell let go of me for him and Nina to close their eyes, lean forward, pucker their lips, and kiss the air next to each other's cheek twice, once for each side, with loud "Mwah!"'s.

I was going to vomit.

"Grell! Can we go now?" I muttered.

Grell turned. "Huh? Oh, sure. Now. Before you and Ron Ron go, there's one more thing you need to do…"

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><p>"Ah! Ah, st…stop…"<p>

"Oh, come on, Chassy! Don't be such a wuss."

"I am- ow- not! B…but why does HE have to be here?"

"I think we all know I'd be good at this. I've been around- I'm handy at dressing and undressing women, so Grell thought I'd be useful. Now relax or it'll only hurt more. You're so tense, I can feel it."

"I…ah, Ronnie, stop, I…I swear to God…"

"You kidding me? I rather like this. Call it pay back for all the snarky comments earlier. Say you're sorry."

"No."

"Say it…"

"No."

"Fine. I _was _going gently, but I guess I'll just have to do it roughly…"

"N-AH! GOD, I'M SORRY, OKAY?"

"Wow, Chassy, is this really the only way to get you to apologize to anything? A bit unnecessarily difficult, don't you think?"

"Grell, y...you're really not h-helping here. I'm already embarrassed enough as it- ow- is…"

"Calm down, Chassy. After all, it's just a corset."

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><p>I couldn't breathe.<p>

Ronald had laced the damn thing so tight black spots danced in front of my eyes (The little son of a gun had done it on purpose).

And the dress on top of it really, really wasn't helping.

I sighed as I glanced in the mirror, turning from side to side. It was a flaming scarlet, with a low bodice with the thick, soft straps hanging off my shoulders. Black silk roses were speckled along the top, and a single thin, black line ran down the middle of the snug top half of the dress, curving with my body. A dark sash was thrown around my waist, tying into a huge, shimmering bow behind me. The rest of it- an iridescent satin- flowed to my ankles and swished and spun with every little movement I made. My hair was brushed, swept up and lightly curled, a few strands slipping down to frame my face.

_William had _better_ raise my paycheck._

"Chassy! Let me see how it look!"

I sighed, trudging out of my dorm into the hallway where Grell was hopping excitedly and Ronald was lounging back against the stair rail.

Grell beamed. "Oh, Chassy, look at you, like a little doll!"

"Wow, Chas. You're a girl?" teased Ronald with a smirk.

I clenched my fists. "I'm going to kill you once I can breathe again."

Grell rushed over, throwing his arms around me and rubbing his cheek against mine. "I always knew you'd look pretty in red!"

Pretty? No. I didn't give a crap about being pretty, and I sure as hell didn't want to be _cute_. This whole thing was practically triggering my gag reflex.

I wiggled in Grell's grip. "Can we go now?" I looked up. Ronald was decked in the tux, which really didn't differ much from his regular outfit. He just looked more formal and proper, which was exactly the look we were going for. He had a carnation tucked in his left breastpocket and had traded out his signature Oxfords for shiny, polished dress shoes to match the outfit.

Grell let go. "Of course! And remember the plan. Get as much information as you can, alright? And be safe! I would hate to see either of my babies get hurt."

Ronald nodded. "We know, Miss Grell. We will be."

Grell still looked uneasy. "Just to make sure…can you two go over the information one more time? I have to make sure you two know it by heart so you're safe."

Ronald sighed. "Alright. Crime; murder. This will be victim number 17 unless we can stop it. Time of death unless intervened; 8:36 p.m. Culprit; still unknown. Don't give away _anything_. Use death scythes only if absolutely needed and out of view. And as for the place of murder…" He trailed off, glancing at me.

I nodded at him, finishing it for the blonde. "…Viscount Druitt's Midnight Ball."

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><p><strong>AN: CORSET SCENE. OH YES. I WENT THERE.**

**...kthxbai.**


	6. That Reaper, Undercover

**A/N: Two updates in three days WHAT. Hehe. As promised, forward with the plot we go~! This chapter reveals a bit more information through the eyes of a very, very irritated Chastity. (Who is extremely fun to write.) So. Once again, thank you for all the reviews and faves. Keep them coming, and enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6- That Reaper, Undercover<strong>

"It's okay. We can do this. Just…relax and act natural."

"I have a bunch of naturals. You want my overly cheerful, bubbly, energetic natural that annoys the crap out of William or my annoyed, snappy natural that annoys the crap out of everyone else?"

"…The 'Shut up and let's get this over with' natural. 'Cuz that sounds pretty good to me right now."

"…Fine."

The blonde held out his arm toward me and bent it at the elbow at a forty five degree angle, glancing at me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to do. "…Yes. That's your arm."

Ronald rolled his eyes. "Take it."

"You want me to…take…your…arm…? I _guess_ I could do that, but it'd be messy…" I cocked my head, confused.

Ronald sighed. "Not literally. I mean put yours through the loop I made with mine."

I stared at him blankly. "…Why?"

"It's what guys do to girls on dates."

_Trust the playboy to know that. _I scowled. "Then I won't."

He was just looking annoyed now. "Oh, for God's sake, not for _real_. It's part of our cover, remember? Weren't you listened when Grell went over this?"

"I don't want to."

"Chas. Quit being so stubborn for once in your life and just go with it, okay? We go in, stop the murder, solve the crime, and get back in the blink of an eye, you just need to cooperate."

With a scowl, I slowly, hesitantly, reluctantly strung my arm through his. "…Fine."

He nodded. "Good. Now. Relax, don't say anything, and…well…" He grinned. "Party!" And with that, he dragged me out of our hiding spot in the bushes in front of the manor.

It was freaking huge.

A large, pearly white building stood perching upon the spring green hill, overlooking the dipping ground beneath it, washed silver in the sterling ribbons of moonlight streaming down from the night sky high above our heads, the twinkling diamonds of stars illuminating the world with a soft, flickering glow. People flocked in through the doors in steady rivers, excited chatter swirling in the night air. Couples hanging off each other laughed as they walked together inside, every step in perfect synch, smiling like the world would just stop and they could just stand there in each other's embrace forever and ever, eternity sailing by them.

That was never going to happen, of course. Humans had attachment issues, a social complex, romantic complexes as well, not bothering to think of their deaths.

I was just the opposite- being what I was, I didn't have much other to think of than death.

Petty existences. I could blink and they'd be dead. They're lives, so short, until the Fates above cut their life strings and then they're souls were collected.

While I was cursed to live forever…

"Chas?"

"Huh?" I snapped out of my thoughts, looking up. Ronald gestured inside, quirking an eyebrow at me. I blinked. "Oh. Um. Right. Okay, let's go in."

He nodded, gently tugging on me and leading me through the ten foot tall front gates and in the front door. Because of the narrowness of the door, only two people able to enter at a time, they had arranged themselves in a single file line. We took our place at the back. I glanced down at the black, elbow length gloves eating my hands and grimaced.

"They're itchy," I whispered.

Ronald looked down. "What?"

"They're itchy!" I repeated in an angry, hushed tone. "And the corset is so tight I can't remember what air is anymore. I can't move easily in this goddamn dress. The heels are making my feet go numb. I hate it when my hair is up. There's too much bloody red. Red gives me a headache. The straps make it so I can't move my arms, either. The stupid-"

"Chastity. _Shut up_."

I scowled. "Well, excuse me, would you like to switch outfits?"

He pressed a finger to his lips and nodded forward. I followed his gaze. Oh. We were next in line to go in. The couple in front of us disappeared inside, leaving me and my partner to step forward next.

"Welcome!"

We turned to see a beaming young man with shoulder-length honey blonde hair and startlingly violet eyes standing just inside the doorway, obviously stationed there to greet guests. He was adorned in a snow white jacket with a fur trim and matching trousers, all the same color as Ronald's Oxfords. He gently grabbed my right hand and tucked an arm behind his back, dipping to softly kiss the back of it.

Um, ew.

I faked a smile and giggle, fake-bashfully pressing my index into my cheek and doing a hideously girly curtsy that I would've made fun of anyone else doing, bravely fighting my urge to throw up. The man winked at me. "Enjoy the party, mon amour."

Ronald gently pulled me in and the man turned to the next pair of guests.

The first thing I did was wipe off the back of my gloved hand on his jacket, making a disgusted face. Ronald chuckled with amusement. "Man. I knew you didn't like romance, but I didn't know you passionately hated it. Relax, the guy was just being friendly."

"_Friendly_?"

"Look, a guy kissing a girl's hand isn't exactly a confession of their forever burning love for her, especially if they had never met anymore. It's more of a sweet, playful little greeting, which was only what he was doing. Let it go, will you?"

Still muttering "Ick"'s under my breath, I tried finishing wiping it off on my dress.

Ronald glanced back over his shoulder at him. "…I think he was the viscount, anyway."

I look up, boggled. That creep was the viscount? "Why do you think that?"

"Oh, I dunno. Could just be a hunch. I could be totally wrong, I'm just, y'know, guessing from the fact that people are going up to him and going 'Hello, Viscount Druitt! My, what an honor to meet you!'"

"…Oh. Right. Then, in that case, you're, uh, probably right…"

Ronald rolled his eyes. "Alright. If you're done with…whatever you're doing…I say we start investigation. The more information we can get in the least amount of time, the better. Start asking around, okay? See if anyone has any connections to the murders. For all we know…" He slowly slid his gaze over the crowd. "…the murderer could be in this very room."

I blinked, the realization that he was completely right hitting me. He grinned, leaning in and closing his eyes to whisper softly in my ear. "Think about it…they might know we're here. Watching our every move. They might know we're death gods. They've already killed one of us…who's to say we're not next? Our lives could end right here, right now, and no one would ever know…"

My body tensed more with every word slipping from his mouth. My eyes grew wide, anxiety starting to crawl under my skin, uncomfortable heat pricking my skin. I could die. I could die so easily…

"BOO!"

"Ah!" I screamed at the top of my lung and stumbled backwards, adrenaline over flooding my senses, my vision momentarily going hazy with fear.

And when it cleared again…

"DAMMIT RONALD! THAT WAS NOT. FUNNY."

The two-toned haired reaper was laughing so hard he was doubled over, tears running down his cheeks. "Oh! Oh God, that was BRILLIANT! Oh, Chas, you jumped, like, ten feet in the air! Hahaha…"

He shut up pretty quickly when I slugged him in the stomach.

"Ow…sorry…" He straightened back up, clutching his stomach not from laughter but from pain. Served him right, anyway. He looked to his left. "So…I go this way and you can ask around here, okay?"

I nodded. "Fine. …Don't die."

"You too." He disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh, what a darling couple you two are."

"Huh?" I turned around to see two elderly ladies, one in a pastel green dress and the other in a soft lilac one, with kind, twinkling eyes and snowdrop hair.

The one in green laughed. "The way you two fight is adorable. I'm sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you, it just brings back memories. Is he your fiancée?"

_No! No, of COURSE not! Ew. Why the hell would I marry that blonde playboy idiot out of all people? Why would I ever get married in the first place? It's disgusting… _I bit my tongue so hard I was practically drawing blood to prevent myself from saying so. I clenched my fists and dug my nails into my palms, faking a smile through gritted teeth, reminding myself to stick the plan, no matter the humiliation. Even with my brain screaming not to, I focused all my willpower and managed to nod.

The one in purple smiled. "You're very lucky. He's quite the looker," she added with a wink.

If I didn't agree with her, it wouldn't sound natural. But I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to do it. The words 'Wow! Ronald is so hot!' never passed through my mind. No. Just…just no. Calling attractive would be just weird. Not that he was bad-looking, it was just…no. Once again, I used all the strength in my body to gag out one tiny little word: "…Yes."

The purple one giggled. "My name is June," she stated. "And this is my friend Margaret."

The one in green, Margaret, apparently, waved.

"And who would you be, darling? The viscount's family goes way back with mine, so I've been to many of these balls before, but I don't recall seeing you here before."

I blinked, thinking quickly. These were just old ladies, completely harmless…or so it seemed. No way was I giving them my real name. "Um, I'm…Charlotte...Williams. Yup. Charlotte Williams, that's me!" I let out a nervous laugh, hoping they wouldn't pick it up.

Margaret nodded. "What a cute little name. And you're soon to be…?" She trailed off expectantly.

I tipped my head. Soon to be? Soon to be what? I-…oh. They meant that silly thing humans did when they wed each other where the bride would take the husband's surname. It was ridiculous, really, I saw no point it, but the words _act natural _were set on endless replay on my mind. "Um…soon to be Charlotte Williams Jones, ma'am." I put on the best smile I could and nodded like I was excited.

"Charlotte Jones. How sweet!" chirped June. "When are you getting married?"

_Why do you need to know this? _"Oh, well, in a month and eighteen days, thank you for asking. Then I'll be Miss Chastity Jones." _Good. They're buying it. And I- CRAP! Did I just say Chastity?_

"Chastity? I thought your name was Charlotte." _…Son of a-_

"Um, Chastity is a nickname, heh, long story, but, uh, y'know, it goes and it goes." _Kingsley! Shut up! You're not making any sense!_

Margaret chuckled. "You live up to it, don't you?"

Live up to-? I remembered the meaning of my name and instantly flushed red. "Wh-what? What do you mean?"

Margaret giggled. "Saving it 'till after the wedding, eh? Good girl."

My cheeks were a blistering crimson. "Wh-huh-?"

"I can tell by the way you're blushing right now, sweetheart," she purred. "Virtuous. That's honorable, darling."

I squirmed. "U-uh…" I scrambled to find words but found none, so I instead offered a squeamish smile and nodded.

June grinned at Margaret. "She actually has chastity, unlike you, you bad, bad girl…"

Margaret smirked devilishly (which looked really outdated, considering she was, like, eighty five) and swished her hips. "What can I say? Not my fault the boys were crawling all over me, I couldn't help it!"

Old ladies talking like they're sixteen. Lord kill me now.

"Chas!"

I spun around to see the familiar blonde trudging through the crowd towards me. I blinked. "Ronnie?"

"I got info." He jerked his head, a gesture for me to follow him.

I nodded, quickly turning back to June and Margaret to smile politely. "It's been wonderful talking to you two."

June chuckled softly. "You too, dearie. Now, have fun. But not too much fun." She winked.

Once again holding back sick, I hurried after him. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me through the crowd into a darkened corner of the room, out of earshot of the other guests.

"What did you find out?" I whispered hurriedly.

Ronald gulped. "Okay, so I talked to this guy, and he said that one of the victims was his brother."

"Go on."

"I asked him to tell me a little bit about himself. He said he had another brother who was murdered a long, long time ago, and I could tell he still hadn't gotten over it; he tensed up and spoke really choppily, y'know? Then here's the weirdest thing- this other guy who heard our conversation turned around and said his wife was also a victim. His wife had apparently lost her parents when she was really young. I can't wrap my mind around it- I can't tell if it's a connection or just a freak coincidence. What could it mean?"

I looked down, trying to process the information. No body wounds except for swelling on the lips. Simultaneous murders. At least two victims faced tragedies earlier in their lives. How was this all connected? What was I missing?

I gulped and looked back up. "Oh, God, I forgot- who's the person supposed to be killed tonight? If we can save them and catch the murderer in the act, then we can solve it!"

"Lemme check…" He whipped out his To-Die list, flipping madly through the pages and stopping one precisely with his thumb. "Ah!" he said. "Says right here. The person who might die tonight if we don't stop it is-"

A scream.

A sharp, blood-curdling, hair-raising, bone-chilling scream.

My eyes widened.

Oh, no.

The other guests instantly starting panicking. I tore off my heels and threw them off to the side, following my partner as we sprinted through the crowd to the source of the sound. It had come from outside on the patio. As soon as we had bolted through the doors to the outside world, out of sight of the humans inside, we summoned our scythes and rounded the corner where the cry had come from. When I curved around it, I stopped dead in my tracks.

We were too late.

There was no trace of any other being. They had already come and gone in a flash. They left no remains other than the lifeless corpse of a body lying on the cold pavement outside, eyes forever frozen open in the purest fear I had ever seen.

It was June.

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><p><strong>AN: By the way, in case you didn't notice, I picked Jones completely on purpose. That's all I'm going to say and hope someone catches it. XD**


	7. That Reaper, Stealth Mission

**A/N: Yaaaaay an update. FINALLY. (Sorry, I've been in Canada for a band trip. XD) So. This chapter we see certain characters show up I'm sure everyone's been waiting for. Please excuse the shortness- it was originally much, much longer, but I had to cut it for time reasons. So, without further adu, (if that's how you spell it...) enjoy and review, please! ^^**

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><p><strong>C<strong>**hapter 7- That Reaper, Stealth Mission**

"I'm sorry, boss. We tried- we really did! And we were quick, too, just- …just the murderer was quicker."

"So the case has not yet been solved."

"Oh, wow, good job, Will! Clap for Captain Obvious, he's a freaking genius."

"I did not find that humorous."

"Please. The only thing humorous about you is the fact you're in holy matrimony with your paperwork."

"Cha-"

"Overtime, Miss Kingsley."

"When are you going to realize _I don't freaking care_?"

"When you grow up and do."

William's eyes and mine- identically a bright, loud, sonic green- were locked in an intense, heated glare, as if we hoped the other would just drop dead under it.

Ronald sighed behind me. "Chas. You need to quit picking fights with everyone. This is EXTREMELY disrespectful to our superiors! Drop it, will you?"

I clenched my fists. "I'm not showing any respect to people who tick me off, senior or not!"

William seemed to grow even more irritated with every word I spoke, if that was even humanly possible. Then again, we're reapers, so I guess it was. "Calm yourself. Temper and attitude will do nothing for you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm usually not like this. You just happen to be pushing my buttons at the moment and I suggest you stop." And that was true. Normally, I was bright and cheery like a midsummer's afternoon and bubbly like a warm, soapy bath. I know you might have a bit of trouble believing this, because I've really only been annoyed this whole time, but I have good reason. Let's see YOU try to stay sane with William as your mentor.

"I'm with Mister Knox. Just let it go. We have more important matters to discuss." _Yeah! Like what wackjob surgical procedure we're gonna need to get that pole out of your arse! _"There've been more killings, all the same way as before. The death toll is up to twenty one now and we still can't find any of the souls. And, as this is your case, I believe it goes without saying it's up to you two to investigate."

Ronald tipped his head. "How?"

"A stealth mission, of course."

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><p>"Woohoo! Knox and Kingsley on the case. No- Kingsley and Knox. Yes. Now we just need some epic music to play in the background! Seeing as there's no ensembles following us, I'll take the liberty of providing, thank you very much. Dun dun dun dun dad a dun da Dun dun dad a DUN dun dun da-"<p>

"Chas. _Is that really necessary?_"

"Whaaaat? I thought it added a refreshing splash of…dramatic flair."

"This is supposed to be a _stealth _mission."

"It is! It's…just…a stealth mission with background music,"

I prided myself on being the only person to make Ronald Knox facepalm.

He was right- we WERE on a stealth mission. Or, supposed to be, anyway. It's a little hard to blend in with the crowd with neon, double-irised golden lime eyes and oddly framed glasses, carrying a bloody _weedwhacker_ across your shoulders and wearing men's attire. It didn't help my partner had flippy dual-colored hair that battled itself in contrast, a full suit with a silver watch hugging his wrist, the same exact eye color as mine, blindingly bright Oxfors and swinging a bright-red plated lawnmower with the words Death Scythe etched on the front. Subtle, Ronnie.

In conclusion: death gods can't pull off stealth missions.

We were sent to investigate the freshly killed victim number twenty one's body to see if we could figure anything out from it. Personally, I couldn't see what information you could extract from a corpse other than the fact it was dead, but William seemed so strong-willed about it, I figured we couldn't at least figure _something _out.

People shot us odd sideways glances as we strode down the streets, the ladies in particular flashing me nasty glances at what I'm sure they considered to be 'atrocious clothing'. Unless, of course, they thought I was a guy- in that case, they didn't really care.

I glanced around. "Blondie, you sure you know where we're going?"

"Uh…yeah, positive," he muttered in reply, his gaze wandering, but he looked just as lost as I did.

"…Really?"

"Well, um, I mean, I know _vaguely _where we're going…just about…"

I groaned. "_Ronnie!_" I cried in exasperation. "You said William gave you directions!"

He whimpered. "He did! Just…not…clear ones."

"Oh, really? What did he say?"

"…Somewhere…in London…"

"…You didn't even ask for directions, did you?"

"What? I thought we could find it ourselves."

"…Okay, good point." (What? Were you expecting me to be angry? He was right, of course.)

"Here, I got an idea," he stated. "You go that way-" He extended his arm to point towards and alley sprawling out to the left. "-and I'll go this way." He jerked his head towards its sister alley delving into the right. "We're bound to find it eventually, right? Then whichever one of us finds it first just goes after the other."

I felt a bit uneasy with the two of us separating, especially with a killer on the loose, but I would be caught dead before I was caught being scared, so I simply nodded. "Sure. Stay blonde."

"Stay brun." And with that, I watched my partner disappear into the pitch black shadows, the only thing left of him the fading echoes of his Oxfords slamming against the cobblestone.

Swinging my scythe around in a large, swishy circle with a flick of my wrist, I began walking down the narrow alley.

Almost instantly, the shaded walkway's temperature, cut off from sunlight or any other sources of warmth, dropped, like someone just dunked me in a vat of melted ice chips. I shivered, tucking my whacker under the crook of my elbow to hug my arms together, attempting to provide myself with a bit of warmth. I unrolled my sleeves in an effort to vanquish the goosebumps prickling on my forearms. I glanced around warily, straining to see.

"Who are you?"

I looked down in surprise. A tiny, wide-eyed, quivering little boy in a dirty, thin brown coat and messy milk chocolate hair stared up at me from the side of the street. The boy seemed sickly, but he was young and strong. Far from his time, I'd know. I dropped to one knee so I was eye level with the boy and smiled. "Well, I'm the grim reaper." No point in lying. And it's not like humans knew there was more than one, anyway.

The little boy's eyes stretched open even further. "Really?"

I nodded. "Mm-hmm. I may not look like it, but I'm a death god."

"But you look human!"

"No, you look death god. We were here first."

He gasped. "So…you…reap souls?"

"Yup. That's pretty much my whole job, right there. Good job, kid."

"B-but I thought the grim reaper was a scary skeleton with a black cloak and hood and really scary."

"Do I look like a scary skeleton with a black cloak and hood?"

The boy shook his head and giggled. "No."

I laughed. "Exactly. You see, I'm on a special mission."

He gulped. "Are…are you here to take my soul with your scythe?"

I blinked. "My scythe? What, this?" I glanced down at my weedwhacker.

He tipped his head, obviously confused. "That's not a scythe."

"Well, the scythe you're thinking of is old-fashioned. This baby is modern technology."

"S-so you're here t-to…r-reap me?"

I smirked. "Why? Have you been a naughty little boy?"

The boy beamed and shook his head.

I grinned. "Then, for now, I'll spare your life." I winked at the boy, who showed no fear in his deep blue pools- just delight and wonder. And with that, I was gone.

_Dead body…dead body...sheesh. It really shouldn't be that hard to find! Aren't there usually people standing around it? _I placed my hands on my hips and let out a breath (coming out as tiny puffs as the warmth hit the freezing air), my gaze searching the alley. Where was it? Where was _I_?

I stopped abruptly. I was being watched.

I could sense it. I could _feel _it. I could feel eyes, hidden eyes, eyes buried deep in the darkness, trained on me, watching my every move. An icy tingle prickled the back of my neck. My body tensed. Adrenaline trickled into my bloodstream, sending the cold droplets coursing through my body. My fingers curled tightly around the handles of my scythe, my whole body tense as a drawn bow-

"Hey, Chas!"

"Hi-YA!" Instinctively, I whipped around and lunged, striking.

It was a good thing he had quick reflexes and bent back or he would've been chopped to bits.

Ronald's eyes widened. "God, Chas, I thought we were friends!"

"Oh, dear Lord, Ronnie, it's just you." I placed a calming hand over my thumping heart, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh of relief.

He straightened back up, eyes wide. "Geez! You tried to KILL me!" he yelped.

"Sorry. I felt like someone was watching me and got seriously spooked…you scared the crap out of me, you can't blame me."

He cocked his head. "You mean someone other than me?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I turned my attention back to the alley, scanning it. The feeling had left, and so had it. "It's gone," I muttered.

"Wh…what is?"

"Whatever was here, it's gone now." I clenched my fists and turned back to Ronald. "What is it?"

A grin touched his lips. "Found it."

* * *

><p>I can't believe we missed it. I mean, seriously- how the hell did we miss it?<p>

The body was smack-bang in the center of the square, a thick barrier of people circling it. Ronald and I ducked behind a stack of crated, peeping out from behind them.

"Okay…so we found it. Now what? We can't just march up and say we're investigating the body, especially since we only look seventeen in human years."

"Chas. Look at us. I think they're _already _suspicious."

"…True. But wait- that kid is way younger than we are, and they look like they're investigating, too! Who are they?" I motioned towards two striking people in the front of the crowd.

A servant and a master.

A servant and a very young master.

And there was something terribly, terribly off about them…


	8. That Reaper, Nobles

**A/N: Oh my god. What are updates. ._. I'm SUPER sorry about my recent inactivity. School's been trolling me, so yeah, been extrememly busy. But I have- dun duh DUUUUUN- a brand new shiny chapter! Yay~! In which we see two characters everyone's been dying to see show up, references to the Ship Voyage Arc in the manga, Chastity and Ronald being slightly spazzish, Grell fangirling, and Chas breaking the fourth wall. XD I'm also really excited to post the next chapter, so stick around for it! Enjoy, and keep the reviews coming~**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8- That Reaper, Nobles<strong>

I got shivers up my spine just looking at them.

And I had no flipping idea why.

The boy didn't look older than eleven. He had short, dark navy-grayish hair sporting a small top hat with a cerulean ribbon wrapping around the base. He was dressed richly, a deep soot colored coat with shining gold accents hanging over his petite, thin frame, the shoes on his feet polished to a glistening sparkle. The thing that really caught my attention, though, was his huge, sapphire eye…and the fact the other was covered by an eyepatch.

Now, I'm about as far from boy crazy as any female you'll ever meet, but any girl with half a brain or less would admit the guy standing next to him was hot. He was quite tall, silky black hair falling into glittering blood red eyes and framing his snow-pale face, a tiny pocket watch hanging off his butler's suit on a small silver chain. The boy was obviously a noble- that was the only way a kid his age would have a butler following him around. But why it was a butler and not his parents accompanying him bested me. I was unsettled by the fat circle of fabric hiding his right eye- he was much too young to have been in an accident which would cause a human to lose an eyeball. What happened?

But that wasn't the only odd factor of the duo.

The butler…he wasn't human.

The aura coming off of him was wrong, all wrong. It hit my body with unpleasant shudders, as if someone was standing inches from me, raking their nails down a chalkboard. But why? What was so different about the butler that I felt like this?

Demon.

My eyes widened, my body beginning to shake. Oh, God. Ohgodohgodohgod. There was a DEMON investigating?

I ducked behind the crates, flipping around to press my back against them, panting. "Ronnie," I growled. "Look at them. I mean _really _look at them."

Ronald shot me a confused frown and tilted his head before turning and standing on his tiptoes to do so.

And I thought we were screwed _before _he grinned and started waving. "Hey! Dude! Sebast-"

"_What are you doing? Are you _TRYING _to get us killed?_" I hissed, grabbing his collar and forcefully yanking him down to crouch beside me, safely obscured from view of the creature from Hell. "That's a _DEMON_, you idiot!"

He smiled. …_Smiled. Why. The hell. Was he. Smiling. _"Relax, Chas. He's a friend."

"Friend? You're friends with a DEMON?"

"Well, no, not _friends_, exactly. But depending on the circumstances we can at least tolerate each other. …Besides, we only attacked each other a minimal amount of times."

"Minimal amount of attacking each other? Really, Blondie?" I sighed. "How many?"

He mumbled something under his breath. I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't quite catch that."

"Five…six…seven…" he muttered quietly. "Look, I was stressed that day, okay? I fought zombies. Have YOU ever fought zombies? Didn't think so!"

I connected my hand to my forehead. "Ronnie. I love you, but you can be such an idiot sometimes. We're not even supposed to interact with those filthy creatures!"

He sighed. "Do we have a choice? They'll see us if we go over, and it's not like we're just gonna sit here and wait until they're gone. I think we both know neither of us have the patience to do that."

I couldn't argue. The blonde had a point. I let out a breath of defeat. "Fine. Just…nevermind. Let's go."

He nodded and dashed out, leaving me to run behind him in tow. We managed to push our way to the inner circle of the thick ringlet of people with curt "'Scuse me,"'s and "Outta the way, suckers." (Okay. The latter was mostly from me.) He grinned when approaching the sum and it's master. "Yo! Bassy! Ciel!"

_Bassy? Isn't that one of the reasons Grell nicknamed me Chassy?_

The two spun around, and the boy instantly adopted a grimace. "Great. _You _again."

Ronald stuck out his lip in a pout. "What? You don't even sound happy to see me."

The boy rolled his visible eye. "I'm not. Whenever reapers show up, trouble is sure to follow."

"Says the kid with the demon butler!" The words flew out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying. My eyes widened and I slapped a hand over my lips. Crap.

The master- either Bassy or Ciel, I wasn't sure which was which- turned to look at me, just noticing my presence, his gaze a burning glare. "Wonderful. Another."

Now I was just annoyed. "No, the Easter Bunny."

The demon flicked his rubied gaze from me, to Ronald, to me, to Ronald. "May I ask why two gods of death would grace us with their presence?" His voice was so calm, even, monotone, I couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or not.

I put my palms on my hips. "What do you think? Investigating," I spat with a scowl.

Something along the lines of anger flared deep in his crimson eyes. "No need to sound so disgusted, I was merely asking."

"You're a demon! You DO disgust me!"

Before I could physically lash out at the being, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me, pinning my arms to my sides, restraining me. I whipped my head around to glare at my captor. "Dammit, Blondie, hands off!"

"Chas, _calm down_. Yes, he's a demon, but we can get him later, okay? We don't want to make a scene- people are already staring," Ronald hissed in my ear.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my flesh, leaving tiny crescent-shaped marks to dot the skin of my palm. "…Fine," I murmured through gritted teeth, shoving off the blonde with a forceful jab of my elbow. I folded my arms and haughtily turned to the demon and it's master. "So. Who are you guys?"

The boy narrowed his eye, his gaze wary and cautious. "And why should I tell you?"

"Dude. It's your name. Not your darkest secret."

And still, he stood silent for a few moments (but I swear to God it was like eternities.), surveying me, wariness flicking in his cobalt gaze, silence hanging thickly in the air. "…Earl Ciel Phantomhive, son of Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive, head of the Funtom Toy Company," he muttered out at last.

I blinked. "You're an _earl_? Dude! You're, like, ten!"

"Thirteen!" he protested irritably.

I looked at his butler, really not caring. "And you would be?"

The demon tucked his hands behind his back and ever so slightly tilted his head to the right. "Sebastian Michaelis. I believe it would only be appropriate for you to tell us your name, yes?"

"Chastity Kingsley, what's it to ya?" I spat. I glanced over my shoulder to Ronald. "This is my partner, Ron-"

"Ronald Knox. Yes, we've met," Sebastian murmured, glaring down Ronald.

I gave a quizzical look to the blonde, and he just shook his head dismissively. "Long story involving a luxury cruise ship, phoenixes, and zombies. I'll tell you later."

I stared blankly at him. And the weirdest thing was I could tell he wasn't kissing. "Uh, okay?" I trained my gaze once again on the pair next to us. "So," I began. "Why is a demon and Captain Eyepatch the Pirate Kid investigating?"

Ciel scowled. "Don't call me that," he growled. "And I'll have you know I am here on the orders of her majesty."

"He thinks he's all big and powerful, but in reality, he just does all the queen's dirty work like a servant," whispered Ronald to me.

"I heard that," snapped Ciel. "And for your information, it is an honor to serve her majesty. I'm quite skilled in this aspect, and with Sebastian at my side like my darkest shadow, I am unstoppable."

"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "I'll serve her majesty. When she's dead." I didn't mean that as a snarky, rude comment. I meant that literally.

Ciel glared. "You two think you're so funny…"

"We are." I stuck my tongue out at him.

Sebastian sighed. "I get that we all share mutual dislikes for each other, but can this wait? I have a headache from cleaning up after those three idiots who work for us…" He placed a hand to his temple in pain and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of annoyance. "I don't wish to start any conflict with you, reapers. Quite frankly, I'm just not in the mood. So I'd appreciate it if we kept it to a minimum."

"Indeed." Ciel glanced at us.

"What information do you guys have?" asked Ronald blatantly.

Ciel made a face. "And what makes you think we'd tell you?"

"Well…" I began. "I guess that'd actually help. We swap information, each get more than we had before. It's sort of a win-win, right?"

Sebastian threw his gaze to his master. "Young master?"

"I'm not giving away our preciously earned investigation information to two reapers who just walk up to us like they're our best friends!" snarled Ciel.

Ronald put his hands on his hips and scowled. "Look, I'm not overly fond of you, brat, but how is it a bad thing?"

"Actually, my lord, I think he may have a point," Sebastian said slowly. "Any information we can gather can help us in this case, no matter the source."

Ciel opened his mouth in a snappy retort, but I didn't give him the chance. "Great!" I chirped. "Kay, so we know that the victim's bodies were unharmed except bruised lips."

Ciel huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, casting his eye to the side in irritation. "We knew that."

"Um…at least two of them had sad pasts, but we're not sure if that's irrelevant yet or not…"

"Okay."

"…Simultaneous murders the exact same way?"

"Knew that."

I groaned. "Oh, for God's sake…"

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't mean to sound poetic about it, but the young master and I noticed something odd about the eyes."

Ronald tipped his head. "Eh? The eyes?"

He nodded. "They seemed absolutely lifeless."

I snorted. "Well, _duh_. They're _dead_."

Sebastian sighed. "I understand that, thank you. But at least most corpses show _something _in their eyes. A dying struggle. A hardship of life. Joy of reaching to the light. But these…nothing. Rosy cheeks out in the cold, if you will. The colored dulled."

He had a point. June had startling green eyes, but her dead body…dull. Flat. Not the sharp jade they used to be, but a murky swamp, like every last ounce of life had been sucked out of her.

I wondered if every murder case the society was issued was as weird and freaking confusing as this one.

I looked down. _The more I see the less I know… _"Alright. I don't know how important that is to it, but Ron and I will go report that to our superior."

Sebastian's face twisted in disgust. "William T. Spears or Grell Sutcliff by any chance?"

"Oh! You know them, great!"

"Not in a good way, Chas…" Ronald murmured to me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Sebastian rolled his eyes and curled his lip. "Yes. Too well. The one obsessed with hating me and the other one just obsessed with me."

I blinked. "Oooh. Your nickname is Bassy, huh? I get it now…Grell talks about you a lot."

"Oh, does it?" growled Sebastian.

"Yeah. He nicknamed me after you, superstar. And I guess you are _slightly _as hot as the rumors say, but not enough to impress me."

"That's what I'm for~!"

"Shut up, Ronald."

"We're not accomplishing anything here anymore," murmured Ciel, dismissively batting his hand in the air. "Go."

I pouted. "So rude. But fine. We were just leaving. Come along, Blondie."

Ronald nodded, waving. "See you later!" He smiled brightly, but I could see ice lodged in his eyes as they fell upon Sebastian, murmuring something under his breath. It was inaudible to hear clearly, but I swear it sounded like _"I swear to God, next time, I WILL kill you. I haven't forgotten the Campania."_, which was odd because he was still beaming, hissing out the death threat through gritted teeth.

Sebastian muttered something coldly back, but I was too far ahead to pick up what it was. I grabbed Ronald's wrist and yanked him forward to tumble after me with a startled yelp, pulling him to the library. I skipped up to William's office and opened his door to the familiar sight of Grell sitting on his desk, obviously trying to seduce him, but the newly hatched black eye showed he was having no luck.

I smirked. "Hey. You guys'll never guess who we ran in to today."

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><p>So here we were, standing at the kitchen island, sipping coffee, chatting happily, annoyedly, competitively.<p>

This should be déjà vu- it only happened, like, six chapters ago.

Course, things were slightly different.

Grell was fangirling upstairs.

William was probably trying to murder him.

Oh, yeah, and there was a serial killer on the loose. And I didn't have the slightest clue to follow.

I stared down into my cup. How had this gone so wrong?

After all, I came from such humble beginnings.

…Not really.

Despite my current predicament, I had to stifle a chuckle at my first day. Sure, it had been mortifying then, but looking back on it, I guess it was kind of amusing.

I glanced at my partner. We were so close now, but certainly had rocky beginnings…


	9. That Reaper, First Impressions

**A/N: I felt bad about not posting a chapter in so long, so here's two in three days. Yay. :3 This is sort of a special edition chapter and'd probably be an OVA if it was animated. Why? This is a flashback chapter~! In it we get to see younger Chastity and Ronnie meet for the first time...which really, REALLY does not go well. Funny little chapter with an extremely awkward little ending. XD This chapter is kind of a mix between the first episode of Ouran High School Host Club and the one where Tamaki meets Haruhi's dad. Or, to me, anyway. XD So. Sit back, relax, enjoy, and review, and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 (Or 0)- That Reaper, First Impressions<strong>

"So, um…how old is he?"

"Your age."

"Oh! Good, that's a relief."

"Yes. He's young, so he's loud and reckless. Like you."

"Great. I was sta- …HEY. THAT'S CRUEL."

"What? I'm only relaying facts. Don't worry. You two should get along just fine."

"…Hmph."

Sunlight danced in through the crystal glass windows on blindingly bright beams, clouds cotton wisps in the soft sapphire sky. Birds flitted around, trilling their soft songs. The pleasantly warm breeze swept through the morning air, prodding at spring green leaves twirling like ballerinas on their spindly branch stages. It was the beautiful, tranquil, almost spellbindingly magical scene straight from a fairytale.

Complete with grim reapers inside.

I yawned and stretched, rolling up the sleeves on my white dress shirt to just below my elbows, exposing my forearms. I was giddy with excitement, but painfully tired from the night before, when I had to stay up until sometime around 2:57 a.m. doing all the bloody paperwork needed to do this in the first place.

I fiddled with my glasses. They were brand spanking new- I had only earned them two days ago. Upon my completion of exams, I shed the stupid, boring thin-rimmed oval-shaped rookie spectacles for custom ones, which I had fallen in love with. They had huge, square lenses outlined thickly in black that rested delicately on my nose, unlike the student ones which kept falling off my face. The thing I loved most about them was the very, very subtle iridescent shimmer speckled onto the sides. You could really only see them when you happened to catch me flick my head in bright light, but I adored it. Lawrence Anderson had outdone himself.

As for my scythe, I was sick of the idiotic 'Safety Sickles'- as they were called-, tiny little sickles that were the only scythes newbies were allowed to use until they passes the exams. They were incredibly inefficient, only able to reap and collect one soul at a time- which they took FOREVER to do- and not to mention they didn't have very good control, so sometimes the cinematic records could spiral out of control. So, I had began working on a new design to modify mine- if I could get permission. Or even if I couldn't, I really didn't care.

Even though I was what was called a 'graduate' (even though you didn't really graduate anything- it just means you passed the tests), I was assigned personal apprentice to William T. Spears, a strict, emotionless man who seemed to hate me as soon as he laid eyes on me. But whatever. Maybe he'd loosen up over time. I knew someday he'd like me. Everyone does, after all. Hehe.

And now for the next stage of being a graduate. In other words: Hell yes.

My eyes wide, I trotted behind William like a tiny dog right on it's mater's heels. We walked a long, gleaming silver hallway that bounced our every footstep to echo back to us. The corridor spread into a huge, square, sterile room, sterling-plated like the rest of the library. I had never been in this part of the building before, which only added to my excitement and eagerness. William nodded towards the doorway, signaling for me to enter. I obeyed, practically bouncing in and waiting patiently in the corner. I had to put on my best behavior- I wanted to make a good first impression, after all. William, scrawling out various reports, business notes and the like out on his handy-dandy clipboard, stood next to me, too absorbed in his work to even say anything.

This was it. This was where I was going to meet him.

My partner.

I placed one hand in the other, twisting it nervously, a thousand thoughts racing through my head. _What is he doesn't like me? Is he a total jerk? Will I annoy him? Does he like coffee, too? Dear God, he better…_ And still he didn't show. The minutes dragged for hours on end. And the hours stretched into eternity. I couldn't take this damned torture anymore. Quickly spinning to face William, I let out a whimper and shook his shoulders furiously. "How long have we been waiting?"

Not even bothering to look up, he simply replied, "Two minutes."

I groaned, breaking my good girl act to show how annoyed I was. "What's taking them so long?" I whined.

"Patience."

I leaned back against the wall, sighing and folding my arms. It occurred to me that I knew nothing about this guy- all I knew was he was my age. Heck, I didn't even know his _name_. William had told me once, but he mentioned it so quickly, briefly, and right afterwards switched to another topic, I forgot it. (The fact I had a memory of a goldfish didn't help.) "Will? What's his name again?"

He looked up. "I told you."

"I forgot."

He sighed disapprovingly. "Figures…his name is R-"

"I'm here! I'm here. I'mhereI'mhereI'mhere. Sorry we're late, boss- _someone _ran out of bloody LIPSTICK and threw a freaking _fit_."

A haughty _hmph_. "That's no way to talk to your higher-up! Lipstick is an essential element of a woman's beauty. I refuse to be seen without it!"

"Yeah, but- priority wise speaking- was scavenging the entire freaking General Affairs department until you could find some _really _necessary? Why didn't you just use the first tube of it you found?"

"Wrong color of red. NOT my shade."

In burst the flamboyant, gender-confused reaper, tossing a long lock of crimson hair behind his shoulder with a graceful flick of his hand, the scarlet coat hanging off his elbows swishing with the movement. His flaming red stilettos clicked against the floor. He grinned at us with a mouth full of small, teeth-like daggers. The man had always been- and still was- a head-turner, but for once, my attention was glued to the boy he was towing behind him.

He had messy marigold hair swept to the side in a flyaway style with a night-black underside and a curved cowlick that stuck into the air. He wore thick, rounded upside down pentagon shaped glasses in front of the standard sonic green eyes. He donned a full suit, the only thing differing from the norm was a strange silver band on his wrist which looked almost like a pocket watch and a pair of snowy white Oxfords on his feet instead of the uncomfortable black dress shoes that came by default with the suit.

So this was him?

With William letting out a low and irritated "Finally," quietly behind me, the teen looked up and gave me a warm, kind, winning smile, breaking free of Grell's grasp to walk over and offer me a black-gloved hand to shake. "Hi!"

Seemed nice enough. I smiled, clasping my hand into his and moving it up and down. "Hi."

"You C. Kingsley?"

"That's me."

He beamed. "Nice to meet you. I'm your new partner, Ronald Knox."

Ronald Knox. That name sounded really, really familiar… "Oh! Yes, hi. I've heard girls talk about you lots."

He gave a very satisfied smirk, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall, tucking his hands behind his head. "Yeah."

"They're all over you."

"Yeah."

"They think you're simply breath-taking and swoon-worthy."

"Yeah."

"I think you're a playboy."

"Yeah- wait, WHAT?" His eyes snapped open. He shook his hands and head like a madman. "N-no! I'm not a playboy! I'm a nice guy, I swear!" he replied frantically, waving his arms around.

I raised a skeptical, unbelieving eyebrow. "Mm-hm."

"What?"

"I heard them saying you're a fantastic kisser and a great first. All thirty seven of them."

His face turned a redder shade than Grell's hair. And in turn said reaper burst out laughing. I rolled my eyes and William simply looked annoyed (but I was beginning to ponder when he didn't).

I sighed. Great. I was stuck with the ladies man.

"So," I muttered, irritated and leaning back, completely unimpressed. "Tell me more about yourself other than girls, Blondie."

Still blushing furiously and flustered-looking, he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Well," he began, sounding relieved to change the subject. "I was a Class A student and graduated with a 3.9 GPA. I've always been interested in the actual process of reaping itself, which is why I signed up for this department. My favorite color yellow, and my favorite saying is 'To die'. I'm working on modifying my scythe to an original design of mine called a Motorized Automated Lawn Trimmer, called a MALT or lawnmower for short, but I personally think lawnmower is catchier. Grell Sutcliff is my mentor. I was-"

"That's nice," I replied, thoroughly bored. Nothing better than a playboy supergenius.

"What? Well, tell me about yourself."

I looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Not much to tell…practical technique is my specialty-" (which sounds a lot better than saying it was the only class I got higher than a D in) "-and I'm working on modifying my scythe. I'm stuck with Mr. Killjoy over there as my mentor…"

"Don't call me that," he growled under his breath, still not looking up.

"…and my favorite color is purple," I concluded. "And there ya have it. Me in a nutshell."

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Wha- _EXCUSE ME?_" I had barely known the guy for three minutes and he was already labeling me a lesbian?

Ronald's eyes widen, fear that he offended me glinting in them. "O-oh! Sorry. Are you…um…into guys…?" He fidgeted awkwardly.

I stared at him. "Um, yeah, what did you think?"

"Nothing! Nothing, sorry. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. I totally respect that. I have a few friends who like guys and they're wonderful people."

My feelings in four symbols: …? "…Kay…" I looked quickly over my shoulder. Grell and William were on the opposite side of the room so I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I saw Grell smile seductively and flirtily trail his fingers over his chest, to which William responded by grabbing a fistful of his hair and slamming his face into the floor. I glanced back at Ronald. "You're talking like it's an awkward topic."

"I-I…am?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. You're such a big flirt, I thought this'd be the most comfortable subject in the world for you."

Ronald was blushing again. "Well…I mean…it…it might get, y'know, a LITTLE awkward if you start to like me…butit'stotallyfine!" he added quickly.

This guy had such an ego he just automatically _assumed _I was going to fancy him? Who did this jerk think he was? "Who said I was going to develop feelings for you, Blondie? I'm not one of the brainless chicks you're used to wooing, bub!" I spat.

"Alright, alright, geez." He held up his hands defensively. "Calm yourself, man."

I huffed and folded my arms. "Whatever, Blondie."

"Are you just gonna call me that from now on?"

"Probably," I replied, absentmindedly picking at my fingernails. "Anything else I need to know?"

Ronald tipped his head in through. "Uh…not off the top of my head…you can look at my résumé, if you want. I have it right here with me."

I shrugged in a sure-why-not fashion.

Ronald reached inside his jacket, producing a small white slip of folded paper and extending his arm to hold it out to me. I reached to grab it, but a breeze rolled in through the window, pushing it out of his grip and sending it fluttering to the ground.

"…Crap. Sorry." Ronald bent down to pick it up and I nodded, closing my eyes in a yawn.

I opened them again. "Got it?" I looked down.

Ronald's mouth was gapingly open in shock. He had stopped about mid-crouch…exactly eye level with my chest.

Instantly, my face flushed crimson with anger and mortification. I took a step back, tightly folding my arms across my chest. "O-oi!" I yelled angrily. "My eyes are up here, you damn pervert!"

His eyes were wide. "D-dude…you…you have…" He was even redder than _I _was. He looked up at me and swallowed hard, obviously exceedingly uncomfortable. "D-dude?"

"Dammit, WHAT?"

"W…what's your first name?"

"Chastity, moron!"

He looked like someone had just slapped him. "Th-that's a chick's name!"

I scowled. "Well, _DUH_."

"YOU'RE A GIRL?"

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT?"

Name: Ronald Knox. Gender: Male. Scythe: Lawnmower. First impression: …

…He's an idiot.


	10. That Reaper, The Impossible Jigsaw

**A/N: Hullo, mah lovlies~! I'm back with a new chapter and a great mood. First of all, I went to my very first convention ever (an anime convention, of course) and had a total BLAST! I went dressed in cat ears and a collar with a bell and got glomped by a bunch of Sebastians and an Italy. XD So many Grells, ohmahgoodness~ Saw all the Shinigami except Alan. (Y U NO ALAN. T.T) Anywho, I've also started watching Black Butler II in English. The girl who does Alois is fantastic and is doing amazingly with everyone's favorite blonde booty-short-wearing :D And RONALD IS COCKNEY KIFGIOHAQXDFODIUSHWERF. ..kayI'mdonenow. Welp. Enjoy this funny little chap with a sad ending. Review please~!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10- That Reaper, The Impossible Jigsaw<strong>

This whole case was one hell of a big, confusing, puzzle.

Only there was no pretty, bright, cheerful picture on the front of the box showing you exactly how the ending product would look- a cute little scene with dazzling eye-popping colors and happiness and rainbows- and all of the pieces had kinked, jagged edges that made them impossible to fit with each other.

Not only that, but there's Mister Pole-Up-Arse behind you, screaming and yelling at you to get it done faster, faster, faster, even when you didn't have the slightest clue where to begin.

And you were pretty sure you still had seven hours overtime due later for not turning in paperwork and once reaping the wrong soul. (In all fairness, I DID think that woman was Mrs. Smith. Not my fault that Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Herdavy look similar when written out on paper. …Either that or I have a minor case of dyslexia.)

And there you have it.

Welcome to my world.

I sighed and glanced around. My dysfunctional little world. I was lounging on the couch in the lobby, lost in my own thoughts, absentmindedly picking at my royal purple tie, playing with the unkempt ends of my boyishly short and messy sunkissed milk chocolate hair, resting on the nape of my neck, barely reaching it's base. My golden lime eyes flicked over the familiar sights. Receptionists- perky and high-strung talkers alongside bored and drawled-out ones- were sorting out issues with unsatisfied or confused reapers and taking faxes. Dispatch managers, a few in the corner rifling through cream colored portfolios. Ronald Knox, chatting up the chicks. Glasses makers, holding up newly forged lenses to the light and squinting through them. Me, on the cushy silver couch, nibbling on chocolate dunked strawberries, the juicy, ripened red fruit covered in luscious melted cocoa beans strangely calming to my high ended nerves, a welcome euphoria in the chaos of my mind.

See, Will? I _can _be poetic.

I closed my eyes, replaying it all in my head. _Unharmed corpses, bruised lips excepted. Dull, lifeless eyes. Identical simultaneous murders. Tragedies, possibly irrelevant. Usually between 21 and 23 o'clock, but time not standard… _

I guess I subconsciously made some sort of logic that if I went over the clues enough times, I'd figure it out. So far it wasn't working, but I should at least get points for effort.

I hopped off the couch. "Yo. Blondie."

"Eh?" The teen turned, his slight Cockney-ish accent accenting the single spoken word.

"Over here."

He stuck his lip out in a pout. "Awww, Chaaaasssss," he whined. "Does it have to be right now? Five more minutes? _Please_? The beautiful Dana and Clarissa over here-" He paused to gesture to two pretty, giggling girls, one under each of his arms, who flushed pink and the compliment. "-were just in the middle of telling me their story. It's very interesting, these two always have the juiciest updates around here. Charles has a crush on Eliana, did you know that? Who would've thought, amirite? But they're adorable. I think they make the perfect coupl-!"

"You can stuff your paparazzi-ish brain full of useless gossip later _after _we solve it," I muttered, quite annoyed. Couldn't he take his mind of girls for two minutes?

Ronald let loose a long, groaning sigh that he purposely drew out just to show me how annoyed he was. "God, Chas, lighten up. There's more to life than your apparent murder case OCD. But whatevs, I'll come with you. Be back as soon as I can, _mis dos bellas rosas de verano delicados_," he whispered huskily in the their ears, the Prince of Charm- of course- showing off his suave, seductive, oh-look-at-me-I-can-compliment-pretty-girls-in-Spanish-and-you-can't-neener-neener-neener skills right in front of my face. The girls turned Grell red and swooned, looking wooed beyond belief as if they were damsels in fairytale books who had just been swept off their feet by their true love prince.

Ick. Ronald wasn't even close to Prince Charming. I really don't know where they were coming from. "Hello, Suavey Dauvey? Over here. I don't have all day."

"Yes you do. You have nothing else to be doing," he replied nonchalantly, striding over, leaving the two admirers to stare, dazed, after what they thought was a blonde sex god. (Like I didn't notice their gaze slipping lower on his backside then they should have.)

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Well, excuse me for not wasting my life away flirting endlessly."

Ronald chuckled softly. "God, you're so contradicting…"

I cocked my head. "What?"

"You act all annoyed about stuff like this, like you've never gotten laid, but you're so feisty all the time, it's like you're not a virgin…"

I hated to admit the fact that I turned as scarlet as the girls. "Wh-what? Dammit, you have no right to know! P-plus, you have n-no room to talk…"

Ronald folded his arms casually. "What? I'm virtuous."

"…You're saying you're innocent and I'm not? Really? You're more of a moron than I thought…"

Ronald huffed. "Says Miss C- Average."

"Oi! That is a sensitive subject!"

"Then leave my love life be!"

"Love life? When did love come into this? Don't you mean your sex life?"

"For God's sake, Chas, lighten up and have some fun, will you? You're a teen. _It's what teenagers do._"

"Oh. Fine. Well, _excuuuuuse me _for thinking that you should be doing more productive then shagging girls when there's a murderer going around!"

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty. Can we stop fighting and just admit I'm prettiest?" Seething, we spun around to see our red superior propped up on top of a desk in a model sort of pose, lying nearly horizontally but propping himself up with one elbow and casually checking his nails (which we're prettier and cleaner than _mine_), his other arm tucked behind his back. His hip was connected with the desk, one leg slung on top of the other, clicking his bright scarlet stilettos together.

I sighed. "You're very pretty, Grell, ma'am."

Grell looked up and smiled cheerfully at me, satisfied with the compliment. "I know." He lifted himself and swung his feet over the desk, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees. "So. What's Kingy and Knoxie doin'?"

Kingy? …Killmenow… "Just talking. Well, scolding, really. But I have every right to, because unfortunately, I'm partnered with a manslut," I muttered quietly under my breath, hissing out the words through gritted teeth.

"Hey! I heard that!" protested Ronald indignantly.

"Do I look like I care?"

Grell whimpered and placed a hand to his temple. "I just had my beauty sleep and you two are already giving me a migraine," he whined. "You're so good together sometimes, and others, I wonder what the boss was thinking when he put you two together. You're both stubborn as hell and have being right issues."

I scowled. "I do not! I am completely fine! I'm not THAT stubborn and-"

"My point exactly."

I fell silent. Dammit. I did have being right issues.

Grell rolled his pair of eyes, identical to mine and the annoying blonde to my left, only his had a lot more thick fake eyelashes framing the edges like tiny dark fans. "Anyway. New murder, Will thought I should tell you."

Ronald blinked. "Aw, man, we missed _another _murder? Crud, we are getting SO much paperwork…"

"Yuuuuup." Grell slid a portfolio to us. "And here we go. Michael Astor, age 29. Date of birth; May 5th, 1879. Date of death; December 27th, 1888. Oh, how unfortunate. From his picture here, he was quite the looker…"

Ronald rifled through the contents. "Damn…and he was killed only two miles away from here…we totally could've caught the killer if we had known!"

Grell shifted. "Knoxie, dear, I've been thinking."

"Eh? 'Bout what?"

I cocked my head in confusion as Grell went on in a now hushed tone. "There's virtually no body wounds, which means it's a very unusual murder. Do you remember the only ever time when that happened?"

I was shocked to see Ronald suddenly go completely rigid, tensing, eyes swimming with dark memories. "Grell…you aren't…you're not suggesting…"

I blinked. "Huh? What're you guys talking about?" I knew there was a period of time before Ronald was partnered with me where it was only him, Grell, William, and the rest of his division, but he never talked about it and tried to sneak out of bringing it up as much as he could.

I might as well had not been there, because Ronald nor Grell paid any acknowledgement to my question. "No," muttered Grell. "I'm not. It's not that, of course. I'm just saying…it brings up certain things I think we'd all rather forget."

Ronald's gaze slid to the floor. Was that a tear forming in the corner of a single eye? No, of course not. He never cried. I had never ever seen him cry… "I-I," he said in a pathetic attempt for words, his voice seizing up. He gulped. "Y-yeah," he finally managed, squeezing his eyes shut painfully. "Look, Grell, I…I don't want to talk about this."

Grell frowned. "I'm sorry for bringing it up, honey. I know it was probably hardest on you…"

Half of me- my usual obnoxious side that loathed being ignored- wanted to yell what the hell they were talking about, but the other half- well, more like a small, very, very small percentage-, the side (Side is too big. Fraction.) of me that was sympathetic and serious nagging at the majority of me to stay quiet. Obviously, whatever it was, it hurt. And it hurt bad.

Ronald drew in a shaky, scratchy breath. "N-no. It's fine. At some point I'm gonna need to grow up and face it. I can't just keep denying it and pretending it never happened."

Grell's lip trembled. He looked close to tears as well. "We all do, Ronnie." He looked down. "I…I'm going to go touch up my makeup." His makeup was flawless. I could tell it was just an excuse to leave the room.

"Y-yeah. I'm gonna…um…look over the suspects." Head bowed, my partner disappeared through the doorway.

My heart wrenching, I trotted behind him. "Blondie?" I asked softly. "You okay?"

"Fine," he replied heavily, not looking back to meet my gaze.

"No," I said softly. "You're obviously not. What happened?"

"Chas. I don't want to talk about it."

I stopped him with a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. "Ronnie. You can tell me. Please, as much as I hate you sometimes, it breaks my heart to see you like this. You're always so bright and cheerful…"

He turned to look back at me, then sighed and softly brushed my hand off. "Please. Just don't."

"Ro-"

"I said leave me alone, okay?" he suddenly snapped, growling and storming out, out my sight.

I was left, horribly confused and hurt, to stare after.


	11. That Reaper, Totally Hammered

**A/N: Hello darlings! First of all…1,642 hits? OH MY GOD! Thank you all SOOOO much, I can't express how happy that makes me! :'D And there's been 154 visitors just this month! (And from a whole bunch of cool countries that I'm probably never going to. ._.) Thank you, that really means a lot to me. ^^ *insert heart here* (And, uh, not to sound pushy or beggy or anything, but could you maybe leave some more reviews? ^^' Sorry, just haven't been getting a lot lately, it's a little discouraging.) So here's the next chap. It starts out with Ron trying to drown his sorrows in a common but bad way and goes downhill from there. Oh, yeah, you might wanna go watch the musical to understand this, by the way. So, enough of me ranting. Enjoy! (Oh, and I have fun facts at the bottom of the chap. Cuz I'm bored. Lol.)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11- That Reaper, Totally Hammered<strong>

Trust the great Ronald Knox to have an emotional breakdown and then get himself drunk sick.

And then force yours truly to go get him.

Spitting out the worse insults I could think of at rapid fire speed in my brain (though I wouldn't be surprised if a few verbal ones slipped out in the mix), I stormed up to the pub Grell had said the blonde vanished in a couple hours ago. And of course, being his partner and having to have legal responsibility over him to some degree and all, _I _was the one who had to go get the no doubt alcohol-induced dual-haired reaper from some pub on the corner of a street.

I walked up the steps, pulling my woolen knit coat that extended to my knees closer to my body for warmth, admiring the purple plaid pattern crisscrossing over the sleeves. Letting out a cloudy puff of annoyance, I swung open the door and stepped inside.

Ronald wasn't hard to find- he was like a pink elephant in snow. In a tutu. With a neon flashing sign above his head saying 'Hi, Chas! I'm right here. Sorry about the inconvenience. I know you're angry with me right now and you have the right to be but I'm too sexy to care. Come pick me up and let's go back home, kay?'

Goes without saying I was annoyed, but you've already figured that out by now. Unless you're stupid. No offense to people who are.

He was slung over the counter, a frothy, golden brown pint in a glass mug clutched in one of his hands. His jacket was discarded somewhere onto the floor, revealing a beer-stained white dress shirt and his black waistcoat with the top half of the buttons mysteriously undone. Red lipstick marks dotted his cheeks, forehead, and side of his neck. Disturbingly, every mark was a different shade of red. Damn ladies man. He was grinning seductively at some chick in a tight red dress with long brown hair sitting next to him, winking and pointing a flirty finger gun at her, slurring out a, "Heeeeey, baby. Ya got six days left. Ya wanna spend 'em in my bed?"

…Ihatehimihatehimihatehimihate- "Goddammit, Ronald, get over here!"

"Whaa?" Ronald looked blearily up at me, breaking into a smile. "Oh, hi, Chas! Sup, homie girl?"

Alcohol is bad, kids. "I'm here to drag your drunken ass back to the library. Will's gonna mount you on his wall."

"Fffff. I'm too gorgeous for that. I mean, really, have you _seen _me?" He laughed. Because apparently, that was funny.

I sighed, sitting down on a vacant stool next to him and unbuttoning my coat, revealing my signature crisp dark violet tie, un-stained shirt and un-un-buttoned waistcoat, thank you very much. "Yes. I have. Blondie, how many pints have you had?"

He scratched his head in thought, his gloves gone as well. "Er…I…I don't…know. Kinda lost count after…seven…"

"Good God. We are getting you home. NOW. I don't care if I have to drag you the entire distance from this filthy little pub to the library, we are going this instant!"

"I'mmmm nooot drunk."

"Yeeeess yoouuuu are." I hopped off the stool and tried tugging his arm to force him off but he wouldn't budge. "Oh, come on, cooperate, will you?"

He pouted. "I wanna stay here!" he whined.

I groaned. "Oh, quit being such a fussy two year old, will you? Quit complaining and we'll get you sobered up."

"I don't wanna get sobered up," he countered challengingly.

I scowled and put my hands on my hips. "Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because when I'm drunk I don't have to think about my past."

I shivered and instantly fell silent at the cold, dark, serious tone suddenly enveloping his previously loud and wild voice. He looked up at me, his eyes showing he was absolutely not kidding. _Oh, _I thought, _Whatever he was upset about earlier and this, this is all connected. _

But before I could say anything else, he was grinning like a madman again, a big, goofy, tipsy smile and laughing for no apparent reason, falling off the stool and landing back-first on the floor which only made him laugh harder. A few girls instantly seized the opportunity to shove me aside and kneel next to him, hovering over him and ditzily twirling their hair and fluttering their eyelashes.

_Goddammit, I am SO sick of this…_ I sighed. "Sorry, girls, the blonde's with me. We were just going home."

"He's with you? Like…_with you with you_?" gasped one of the girls. Before I could even reply, she cried out, "You're gay?"

Having short hair, wearing boys clothing, and a deep-ish voice for a girl just. Does. Wonders. "No, I'm a _girl,_" I corrected snappily in irritation. "And we're not a couple, oh, BELIEVE ME we're not a couple. He's just my business partner."

The girls brightened again. "So he's free?" squealed one excitedly.

"Yes. But you're not getting him." I pushed through the girls, catching hold of his arm and dragging him across the floor. "Ugh…goddammit Blondie, loose some weight…!"

"It's alllllllllllll muscle," he slurred happily, apparently not fully taking in his current predicament yet. He looked up at me, giggling. "Where we going, huh?"

"Back home. Will sent me to fetch you. Grell said you'd be here…WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, TELLING A HUMAN HER DEATH DATE, YOU FREAKING IDIOT?" I yelled angrily once we were out.

Ronald shrugged. "It's a good pickup line."

"No! Bad! Bad pickup line! Bad Ronald!" I scolded like he was my bloody dog or something.

"Ow…! Stop dragging me across the rocks, it hurrrrts!" he whined.

I sighed in exasperation. "Then stand up!" I commanded.

"Fiiiiiiiine." He groggily stood, running a finger through his messier-than-usual golden blonde and pitch black hair, his cowlick springing right back up a nanosecond after it was smoothed down. "…Hey! You and I should like go on a date!" he suggested brightly out of nowhere.

So drunk. "No."

"I'd make it really good."

"No."

"You look really sexy after seven pints."

"I'm glad. Now trap it, lover boy, you've got a buttload of paperwork to do." I started the path back, reluctant blonde in tow.

He stumbled after me. "Slow down!"

"I AM going slow," I hissed through gritted teeth.

He waggled a twirling finger. "Nawwwww you're going speedy walk right there I see ya doin' it."

"…You are not getting any form of alcohol for, like, the rest of eternity."

"Aww, pwease?" He came up behind me, cutely wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder, gently nuzzling into my neck.

Other girls would melt. I just found it annoying. "Hands off."

"Not until you say yes~!"

I shoved him off. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No…"

"Yes…"

* * *

><p>So about two miles and countless arguments later we finally arrived back at campus. Thank god he was starting to sober up as well.<p>

He groaned and pressed a still naked hand to his temple. "Oww…my head…"

I shoved my hands in my pockets, walking through the door, feeling the zap of harmless electricity run down my spine. "Yeah. Your fault."

I was getting weird looks from other workers in the lobby. Makes sense- I was towing a disheveled looking teen with weird hair and a lawnmower (which he had summoned as a walking aid cuz I sure as hell wasn't helping him) in through the front gates.

Ronald hugged the handle of his scythe. "No. Not my fault." His eyes turned cold. "Sebastian Michaelis's fault."

"…What? What the hell, he hasn't done anything to you."

His gaze was instantly so full of burning fury, hatred, and rage like I had never seen it before, it scared me. "Oh. Oh. 'He hasn't done anything to me-' Oh, you don't know the HALF of it," he growled.

"Okay, so, you attacked each other a few times. Perfectly norma-"

"Yes, but I wouldn't _kill _something," he hissed. "I wouldn't _torment _somebody about death. I wouldn't laugh as the light left their eyes. He would. That bastard would. I didn't injure him there because there were too many people. But if I ever encounter him alone, he's going to be sorry he…" He trailed off.

"…Ronald?"

He looked away. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, storming off.

I was _not _being blown off again. "Oooooh now you don't," I murmured, following him.

He turned and sighed. "Chas. Please. I want to be alo-"

"Look, whatever happened, you're obviously upset. You think running away from your problems is gonna help? Yelling at me whenever I try to follow you? Is this easing the pain, Ronald? Is it making it better?"

He was quiet for a long time, kicking at the ground, then sighed and walked out onto a balcony, leaning on the banister before walking to a completely open section, sitting down and dangling his legs over the edge. "I just…I don't…I don't like talking about it."

I sat next to him. "Then nothing will get better. It'll bottle up inside of you and grow and grow and grow until you can't take it anymore. You'll scream, cry…but you still won't talk." I was speaking in a hushed, even tone, my words slightly rushed.

He looked up at me. "God. You're deep today."

"I can be smart on occasions."

He glanced back down, folding his hands in his lap and sucked in a breath. "You're right. I should quit sitting around feeling sorry for myself. You're one of my closest friends and I guess you have the right to know."

"Right to know what? What happened?"

He squeezed his eyes shut painfully. "I went to that pub to drink myself stupid to try to forget. To forget it all. Everything. I wish I could, so, so bad…I wish it had never happened, any of it."

"What? What is it?"

He hugged his knees. "I used to work with two other reapers very, very close to me."

I cocked my head. "Who?"

He was silent for a long time before he finally managed five excruciating words. "Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby."

* * *

><p><strong>~Fun Facts about this Story~<strong>

**-Chastity's original last name was Williams (Changed because William was her mentor and I thought that'd be kind of weird.)**

**-I debated whether I wanted this to be post or pre musical to have Alan and Eric in it. I decided post so I could have some fun working with Ronald's backstory, which you'll see more of next chapter.**

**-Alois Trancy and Claude will probably never be in this- they simply aren't needed for the plot- but they may make brief cameos.**

**-It took me FOREVER to come up with a unique garden tool death scythe for Chastity. A few scrapped ideas were a hoe, a rake, and just a regular scythe.**

**-I've had plenty of time to develop Chastity through an ongoing roleplay with NightShadeShovel. (Started in late November, still going.)**

**-Chastity probably has some form of ADHD XD**

**-Originally, the relationship between Ronald and Chastity wasn't so cutthroatedly competitive and alot sweeter and more gentle, but I didn't find that nearly as fun or amusing to write.**

**-I was intrigued by the Shinigami (BTW, in case you're wondering why I'm not using the original Japanese terms like Shinigami and senpai and stuff, is because it's set in England and I want to try to make it authentic. Damn hard, though, I'm constantly tempted to use them, but I think 'boss' is a cute substitute for senpai, anyway.) before I even started watching the series. My friends had all watched it before me and were constantly talking about it, so I looked up the series on the wiki and fell in love with the reapers. So I probably at least had a vague, very rough idea for Chas and the plot line of this story before I saw/read it. XD**

**I'll update this list if I think of any more. XD **


	12. That Reaper, Ghosts of the Past

**A/N: I'm way overdue for an update on this. Sorry. I've been on Avengers high. (BEST. MOVIE. EVER. OH MY GOD. GO SEE IT. NOW. "Hulk...smash.") So apparently I'm in a write-despressing-reaper-stuff-involving-Eric-and-Alan mood because I posted The Last Lights last week...what is wrong with me. OTL So yes. Very sad chapter ahead, you've been warned. (But it has a really cute ending.) This is also a special chapter because it's the first chapter that parts of it (most of it, actually...) aren't in Chastity's point of view. Um...you'll probably want to watch the musical if you haven't already seen it to understand this chapter...and if not, here's to hoping you'll just figure it out. XD Enjoy and review, my little green rage monsters! (...Okay I'll stop it with the Avengers stuff now.)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12- That Reaper, Ghosts of the Past<strong>

I stared. Who the heck were they?

Ronald visibly tensed and bit his lip. "They were amazing. I loved them more than anything. Alan was so kind and caring and was always looking out for me, and Eric was like my older brother. Most people actually thought that- we both had blonde and black hair, the same shape of our faces and we were both party animals who loved to drink." The muscles used to create smiles twitched, but he blinked and swallowed any beginnings of one. "They were also more experienced than me, and kind of took me under their wings. I looked up to them. They were my idols."

I couldn't help but notice he was speaking all in past tense. "Was one of them your partner?"

Ronald let out a tiny, sad chuckle. "Oh, no. They were as much each other's partner as they belonged to each other."

"They were a couple?"

"Duh. No matter how much Alan denied it." Another strained laugh. "It was sickeningly sweet, but adorable, really. I mean, Eric used to be a ladies man- where do you think _I_ get it from?- but I, uh, kinda flipped out every time he broke up with someone. Anyway, not the point."

Playboys. So predictable. I clasped my hands together in my lap. "How'd you all meet?"

He glanced slightly away, eyes glazing over as if fond memories were playing in front of them. "Well…"

* * *

><p>"<em>Gentlemen, your attention."<em>

"_Ugh…wutisit, Will?"_

"_Refrain from referring to me as 'Will', Mister Slingby. And I am here to announce the newest member of our division. I'd like you to meet Mister Ronald Knox."_

_Everyone stopped and lifted their heads to stare at the new reaper._

_Nervousness wise, it _really _wasn't helping._

_The young blonde offered a shaky smile, his golden green gaze flicking from death god to death god, hoping they couldn't see him trembling. He ran a jittery, black-glove hand through his messy buttercup and raven hair, trying to calm his raw nerves. He was to be the youngest in the division he had just joined. After all, he only just graduated. Would they accept him? Or just label him a stupid kid who didn't know what he was doing?_

_Most of the workers gave a polite nod of acknowledgement towards him before instantly going back to their work. Was that a good thing or bad thing?_

"_Calm down, kid. We don't bite."_

_A hand suddenly on his shoulder and a deep voice rumbling behind him was enough to make him let out a sharp, frightened yelp and jump._

_A chuckle. "What're you, kid, a Chihuahua? You're small, shaky, and get scared by everything. Wipe that holy-crap-I-just-saw-a-ghost look off your face and I can help you get started, kay?"_

_The teen, still quivering, turned to the man behind him._

_He was extremely tall and muscular, his eyes behind blue-tinted glasses twinkling with amusement. Stray locks of his long, vivid yellow hair fell into his face, the rest framing his neck and shoulders. His hair suddenly switched to tight cornrows decorating the right side of his head, black as the scruff on his chin. He wore no vest over his white shirt under his unbuttoned jacket, letting his tie spill down his chest. "What's your name, kid?"_

_The young blonde gulped. "Uh, Ronald. Ronald Knox, sir."_

"_You're a cute little thing, Ron." The man grinned, ruffling his hair. "Eric Slingby, senior member," he stated in a self introduction._

"_Pleasure to meet you, Mister Slingby."_

_Eric smiled. "Oh, just call me Eric. Mister Slingby makes me feel old."_

_Ronald nodded. "Yes, sir."_

"_Don't call me sir, either."_

"_Oh. Um, sorry."_

_Eric laughed. "You're polite. I like you, kid. We could definitely use more of that around here."_

"_Oh, no, everyone else is. It's just you."_

_Ronald turned to a small, lithe brunette to his left, a tiny smile gracing his fine, pale, specific features. He was about a quarter of an inch shorter than himself, his thin frame sporting a suit with a silver, skull shaped bolo tie hanging around his neck in the place of a usual tie. His short, rich chocolaty hair was combed and glossy but still had a tousled, wind-swept look to it. He reached up to gently nudge his wiry glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Really, Eric, you're scaring the poor thing half to death." His voice was calm and even, but was obviously trying to conceal laughter._

_Eric snorted. "Please. I was just introducing myself. Not my fault he's jumpy like a tree frog."_

_Ronald gave an apologetic smile and anxiously laughed._

_The brunette gave a teasing roll of his eyes. "I bet you're not helping." He turned to Ronald and extended a hand. "Alan Humphries. Welcome to the department."_

"_Thank you very much." Ronald slid his hand into Alan's and firmly shook it. "Ronald Knox. Pleasure, Mister Humphries."_

"_You can just call me Alan, if you'd like."_

_Ronald cocked his head. "Does everyone here go by their first names?" That was certainly different than how he was to address his superiors at the academy._

_Eric shrugged. "Eh. Pretty much. I mean, I guess it's because we're all colleagues and are sick of calling everyone 'sir' or 'ma'am' in the academy."_

_Ronald nodded. He was tired of that as well._

"_So, Ronald," began Alan. "Have you taken the tour yet?"_

"_Um, no s- Alan." Tours were offered to students of the main campus so they would at least vaguely know their way around when they graduated and chose their departments, but Ronald had been sick that day and couldn't make it. (Or, at least, that's what the teachers thought. In reality, he had previously scheduled a group date with Lainie, Belle, Sarah, McKenzie, and Tawni, and there was no way he was missing it.)_

_Eric glanced at Alan. "Should we show the kid around? We're on our break."_

"_Sure." Alan gave a soft, gentle smile towards Ronald that melted away every last bit of his anxiety. "Come along, Ronald. Allow us to show you the ropes of the Death God Dispatch Society."_

_Ronald grinned right back. "My pleasure."_

* * *

><p>I chuckled softly. "I can't imagine you being nervous around people you don't know. You're so suave and cheerful all the time…in a room full of strangers, you could instantly get all the guys to like you and probably get one of the girls in your bed."<p>

Ronald laughed. "What? It was my first day. I was scared. You would've been, too."

"Oh, pfft. I NEVER get scared."

"Cuz you're just that awesome?"

"Cuz I'm just that fricking awesome, Blondie." I giggled, tilting my head to look up at him. "Well, that's not bad. Then why do you never talk about them?"

My only reply was silence.

* * *

><p>"<em>Eric! Hey Eric! Where're you going? Can I come with?"<em>

_The older reaper, startled and tense, whipped around. "Noth-! Oh, Ron, it's just you."_

_Ronald tipped his head. "Of course. Where are you going? And…why do you have your death scythe?"_

_Eric blinked and gulped, quickly shoving the large saw behind his back. "I'm going out reaping."_

"_Huh? Then why aren't you taking Alan with you?"_

"_Oh. Uh, Alan's sick."_

_At least that bit was true._

_Ronald frowned. "A cold?"_

"_Sure."_

"_Oh. Then can I come with you? I'll be your partner for a day!" Ronald suggested brightly._

_Disappointment and refection stirred in his eyes as Eric looked down and shook his head. "Oh, that's alright, kid. I appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage on my own."_

_Ronald frowned. "Doesn't' boss always say it's safer to take someone with you?"_

_Eric took a deep breath. "I just need some alone time, kid." (Even after knowing each other for a good while now, Eric still insisted on calling him that.)_

_Ronald bit his lip. "Why? Are you mad at one of us? At me?"_

"_No! No, of course not." He ruffled his hair affectionately. But then why was there sorrow in his eyes? "I could never get mad at you, Ron. You're my darling little brother."_

_Ronald fixed his haired, relieved, but still confused. "Then why-?"_

"_I have my reasons," he snapped quickly in reply. _Too _quickly._

"_Eric," Ronald began, slowly. He had been acting strange lately, sure, but he was never like _this_. Dripping suspicion began to edge into his voice. "Why do you have your death scythe behind your back?"_

_Eric shifted nervously. "I don't want to accidentally hurt you with it."_

_Something wasn't right. "You've show it to me thousands of times and nothing happened!"_

"_Drop it, Ron…" growled Eric, beginning to back up towards the door. _

"_Eric, what is it? Why can't you tell me?" cried Ronald, worried and betrayed-feeling. Since the day the two had met, they had formed an incredible bond that was stronger than steel and grew by the day, the two even proclaiming each other brothers. Eric had always trusted him enough to tell him anything- from the day's events to his deepest secrets- and every bit of it was mutual. What was so dark that Eric couldn't even tell _Ronald?

_Eric remained quiet, shaking his head, biting his bottom lip._

"_Eric!" Unable to take the unbearable torture of not knowing anymore, Ronald ran up and gave a rough yank to an arm tucked behind his back, sending his saw to come plummeting to the floor, colliding with the ground with a loud clank._

_Eric stood frozen in horror as the teen shakily bent down next to the scythe, drawing a finger cautiously along the blade and holding the warm, thick, sticky crimson liquid up to his terror-wide eyes. "Eric? Is this…_blood_?"_

"_It was a reaping accide-"_

"_Reaping has nothing to do with blood, Eric! You just collect the soul and go. No blood! No ordinary reaping could've done this! What did you do?"_

_He and Eric locked gazes. Eric uttered no words- his eyes spoke for him. 'I'm sorry. I wish there were no secrets, but this is the way it had to be.' He bent down and quickly snatched his scythe, bolting out the door and disappearing into the shadows of the night, leaving a confused, horrified, and very, very hurt blonde screaming after him._

"_Eric! Eric, wait! Eric!"_

* * *

><p>"Blondie? Blondie? Hello?"<p>

My partner was staring off into the distance, lost in his mind. I could practically see shadows of dark memories dance in front of him. He was totally still as if in a trance.

"Ronald?" I spoke in a softer tone this time, my voice just barely over a whisper. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small, pitiful whimper, a single tear sliding down his cheek, staining the skin it had slithered by with the salty droplet. "Oh, God, no," he winced frantically, as if caught up in a tragic memory. "Oh, God, boss, please tell me you're kidding. Tell me you're kidding! There's no way that…they can't be…dead."

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, everyone!"<em>

_The beaming blonde skipped into the room, his grin ever-present and his energy boundless as usual._

_But he was a stray beam of sun falling on dark clouds._

_He stopped, looking around, frowning, brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?" The usual cheerful chatter that always filled the morning air had diminished. Smiles ceased to exist. Solemn hung so thickly in the air you could slash it._

_The workers, confined each to his own world of solitude, didn't look up. Didn't even acknowledge him. Just kept sadly studying the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world._

_He cocked his head and walked over to a Rapunzel haired scarlet reaper sitting on a desk, shoulders hunched, sobbing muffled behind the perfectly manicured hands covering his face._

_The young lawnmower-wielding death god cautiously tapped his shoulder. "Grell? Grell, what happened?"_

_Grell lowered his hands, revealing eyes red and puffy from crying and sniffed. "You haven't heard yet?"_

_Ronald shook his head._

_Grell gulped. "Awful things, Ronnie, awful things…"_

"_Like what? And where are William, Alan and Eric?"_

_He only sobbed harder._

"_Allow me to explain."_

_Ronald spun around to face his stern-faced superior. "Boss! What's going on?"_

_William was emotionless as ever, but his eyes, way, way, WAY down deep, showed…loss? Sadness? "What do you think?"_

"_Boss? Where's Eric and Alan?" Ronald asked slowly and shakily. His heart, fluttering like a captured butterfly in the cage of his ribs in his chest, stopped at the next words out of his mouth._

"_They're dead."_

* * *

><p>"Ronald! Ronald, are you okay?"<p>

I was beginning to get seriously concerned. He kept his eyes shut painfully, muttering to himself about Eric and Alan, begging for something not to be true, chocking out something about thorns. Whatever happened that day must've been absolutely awful if it was too much for Ronald- chirpy, bright, energetic, optimistic, boyish, strong Ronald- to bear.

Unsure of what else to do, just desperate to find a way to comfort him, I reached over and softly rested my hand atop his. "Ronnie," I whispered. "Ronald, it's okay. Everything's alright now. I'm right here."

I let out a quick, sucked-in gasp of surprise as a sudden pair of arms wrapped around me, one clasped onto my shoulder blades, the other hooked firmly under my arms, pressing me against another body in one, quick, jerky movement. I felt it tremble against my own, hot drops trickling cheeks, wetting the fabric of my shirt. I looked down in shock, before slowly raising a hand to stroke soft strands of blonde hair. "Shh. It's alright, Blondie. It's okay."

Ronald's only response was a high whimper, muffled from being buried in my shoulder.

I might be loud. I might be obnoxious. I might be dimwitted. I might be arrogant and self absorbed. I might be irritating. But I loved my moron of a partner, my best friend, so I did what any friend would.

I placed my arms around him and held him for however long it took, whispering to him comfortingly, promising I'd be there for however long he needed me.


	13. That Reaper, The Tear Duct Predicament

**A/N: JESUS have I owed you guys the next chapter for a long time. Sorry. Teachers be trolling us with exams and projects because it's a crime to let student have free time. Blech. A few things; first, new summary! Yay! Second; thank you all so so so SO much! I've hit about 2,280 hits, more then I ever thought I would. And the positive reception of the last chapter- everyone saying it was their favorite so far- made me feel so flattered and undeserving...thank you all. ^^ Third; this chapter includes the much anticipated promised cameo that I'm sure you've all been waiting for (not). Enjoy the easter egg, kiddies, it's just for you. Fourth; last chapter was- let's face it- super depressing. So please enjoy this funny and important next chapter with more clues...but the more you see, the less you know. ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13- That Reaper, The Tear Duct Predicament<strong>

To be honest I thought males didn't have tear ducts.

I've never seen one cry before. Because men are much too cool for crying. (I am too, of course.)

So either they actually DO have tear ducts (or is it tear glands? I don't know…I like tear ducts. It sounds funnier. Like tear ducks.) or Ronald is just really girly. …Going with the first one. (Though I'll admit he spends four hours in the shower and in front of the mirror and he has thick luscious blonde hair. So he does have his feminine qualities, but…)

He stopped crying after a while, my shoulder soaked. He sniffed and sat back, rubbing an eye with the cuff of his sleeve. "S-sorry about that…"

"Relax, Blondie," I soothed, gently rubbing his back. "I'm not sure exactly what happened but I can guess. They were extremely close to you and they died, huh?" A stiff nod confirmed my question. "Then I get it. You're sad. And I'm sorry, that must suck…" Yes, yes, I've been told I'm not sympathetic before, no need to remind me. "…But I'm here." I offered a soft smile and squeezed his hand.

He drew a deep breath. "Well, not my first choice…"

"Cry me a river."

"…But fine." He gave a weak smile and stood. "Alright. Better now. I think. And my hangover is wearing off…yay …"

I nodded and stood up next to him. "Better?"

Ronald nodded. "Yeah. Better." He stretched. "So…what now?"

"Dunno...interviews or something. Interviewing possible murderers always cheers you up, right? …Right?"

"You have weird ideas of cheering up."

"Take it or leave it."

"Taken." He nodded and we stepped through the door.

* * *

><p>"So. You were…where when the murders happened?"<p>

"I was just as home having my butler dress me slowly, taking his sweet time…why?"

The butler let out a tiny, tiny sigh.

I scribbled off something on my paper. "Okay…any connections to the victims?"

"Nope!"

"M'kay…anything else?"

"You smell good!"

"…Ronald, why are we interviewing this kid anyway? He's, like, nine."

"_FOURTEEN!_"

"I dunno. Will and Grell said he was suspicious and had past problem with him before…they didn't elaborate." Ronald stuck out his tongue just a little bit as he marked off something on his sheet of paper. He had a weird habit of doing that. "Kay, kid, you're good to go."

The blonde huffed. "Kid? I am not a kid! You're not even that much older than me!"

Ronald cocked an eyebrow. "Alright, cool it, no need for temper tantrums. Thank you for your cooperation…you can run along now."

The blonde rolled his Germanic-blue eyes and put his hands on his hips. "Well, geez, _fine then_. Come along, Claude." He swished his hips to one side, his plum coat following (those shorts he was wearing…they were so short it had to be illegal…) and motioned for the tall, dark haired and suited man next to him to follow, who gave an annoyed grunt and nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, your highness." He walked off after his skipping master. There was definitely something weird about that butler, but he left before I had time to figure it out. Hm.

Ronald sighed, folded up his suspect list and shoved it in his pocket. "Chas," he whined. "That's the seventh person today! We're not getting any valuable information. Can we go home?"

I pouted. "Oh, c'mon! We don't even-"

A shrill scream pierced the air.

Great.

_Another _convenient murder.

I sighed, going through the motions, flicking my wrist to summon my scythe, dashing off towards to sound. At the sound of a lawnmower revving behind me, I knew he was following.

My footsteps echoed around me as I sprinted down an alley. _This time. This time for sure!_

_Wait…where is he?_

The sound behind me faded and I slowly turned. No blonde hair, stupid grin, thick rounded glasses or lawnmower in sight. Usually that'd be okay, but now I was starting to freak out.

"B-Blondie?" I called. "Get out here you moron, where'd you go?"

And of course, like some cliché horror play, I got no fricking response.

"Haha. Get the hell out here. You were just here a second ago. Contrary to popular belief I am not dumb!" (I obviously wasn't. I don't know why people think that- I can count to eleventeen in ten languages!)

And of course, like some cliché horror play, I _still _got no fricking response.

This was always how the main chick would die. She'd start flipping out about the prank someone was pulling on her then a monster would jump out and tear her throat out.

Delightful.

Luckily, I had common sense. Or enough of it, anyway.

I sighed, spreading my arms in a 'Come-at-me!' stance. "Hello, monster who feasts on the brains of young woman! You want? I'm a death god. That might add extra flavor."

Still, the only sound I heard was the chilling echo of a distant drop plopping against cobblestone and ringing against the stone walls.

Now I was getting frustrated. "Seriously! You dumb blonde or supernatural being, whatever you are; you're starting to piss me off!"

You might think I had got nudged a little off my rocker and was screaming at oxygen molecules. (I'm sorry if I scared the hell of you, molecules. You're innocent. …Will says I ruin the seriousness of the moment with my chatty narrative tone. You know what? Screw him. Anyone have extra change? It's for a good cause- the surgery to get the stick in his ass out.) But I wasn't. I could sense it. I could _feel _eyes trained on me, breath like shards of ice dripping down my neck, like when I was talking to that kid in the alleyway before.

I stood my ground and flicked my wrist, summoning my scythe to materialize from thin air and land in my grip and growled, refusing the show fear.

But my cover up wasn't strong enough.

I let out a shrill gasp-shriek as it was suddenly knocked out of my hands to clunk onto the ground before being cut off dead silent by a sudden hand clamping over my mouth. My vision instantly began to haze, blurry black fuzzing my sight, as I dimly felt a strong arm wrap around my waist from behind. A cackle- low, deep, and so full of hatred it burnt my skin- pounded into my ear, sending my eardrums off buzzing. Limpness traveled through my veins, paralyzing my entire body until I literally couldn't move. I squeezed my eyes shut and let loose a silent whimper. So this was it. I was going to die.

And there were so many things I never got the chance to tell Ronald, so many. Simple words that I had spent hours upon hours pondering in my head how to confess to him without ruining our friendship.

Like how I swapped the lenses of his and Grell's glasses four months ago and neither of them had noticed yet.

I slipped my eyes close, feeling every bit of warmth in my body evaporate.

Then blackness.

And that's all there was.

* * *

><p>"Don't be dead! Please don't be dead! God, that would look SO bad on my record- wake up! Please! Wakeupwakeupwakeupwake-"<p>

"GODDAMMIT RONALD STOP SHAKING ME! I'M BLOODY ALIVE, OKAY?"

"Oh, good, you are! And by the sounds of it, better already!"

I groaned and sat up, rubbing the back of my head, wincing. "Ugh…what the hell happened?"

My partner was crouching in front of me, his huge golden green eyes washing with relief. I looked around. We were still in the alley, but whoever it was was gone.

"I don't know," Ronald confessed. "I heard your scythe and followed the noise, but it just led me to a dead end and you weren't there. I couldn't see well in the dark so I had no way of knowing." Weird…that was what happened to me. "So then I started calling for you and you didn't answer so I was freaking out. I heard you scream so I ran over fast as I could…_something _was grabbing you but didn't want to be seen. Disappeared soon as I got in sight. I couldn't tell who it was. You passed out, you woke up, you swore at me…and there you have it. You're, uh, you're up to speed."

I rubbed an eye. "…You better not have kissed me."

"No promises. OW! Stop punching me so constantly in the same spot, you're going to punch my arm off one of these days! I was _kidding_, relax."

I stood up shakily. "I'd have no regret…any findings?"

"Me personally? Ah, no. But Grell sent me a message via death note that they just found another body…Maria Aberline."

"Crap…well, information?"

"25 years old. Brown hair. Green eyes. Lost to-be husband in battle, though circumstances unclear. Was pregnant with his child, would've been Cynthia Aberline but miscarriage at birth. So, uh, yeah. Depressing, I know, this girl did not have a happy life."

I picked up my scythe. "No…well, back to HQ, I guess."

Ronald nodded and grinned. "Hey…you wanna take the fun way to the library?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You can portal?"

"Psssh. _No_.That's like WAY beyond my rank…but trust me, this is way cooler." He gripped the handle of his lawnmower, putting his right foot on top of the main engine. "Hold onto me."

I slowly stepped behind him, putting my foot next to his and arms around him. "…Now what?"

"Now it gets fun."

Before I could ask he yanked a string, revving the engine, and we were off flying- quite literally. The momentum launched us into the air. He let out a whoop of joy as the surprisingly powerful scythe sent us soaring over houses and the Thames, sending strands of his blonde and black hair to whip my face, but not muffling my top-of-the-lung screaming.

How the hell was he_ laughing_?

I squeezed my eyes shut and clung onto him, burying my face in the back of his neck for dear life. Once the air had stopped rushing past, my motion sickness dimmed, and Ronald's happy cries quieted, only then did I dare to crack open an eye.

We were back at the library, landing perfectly in front of it.

…okayhowthehelldidhedothat.

He shot me a glance and grinned. "Well? Thoughts, first time flyer?"

"That. Was. Terrifying. How did you do that? Did you put fricking _pixie dust _on the damn thing or what?"

"Nope! Turbo powered rocket engines. State of the art technology by yours truly." He hopped off and I eagerly followed, trembling, trying to swallow my nausea.

Note to self: Never travel via _lawnmower_.

For stability, I summon my scythe and leaned on it until my vision stopped spinning. I glanced down at the blade.

Clogged with black hair and little pieces of paper?

Interesting…

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><p><strong>AN: I obviously had a lot of fun writing this chapter. OH. CLIFFHANGER. YAAAAAY. (BTW, no, the murderer isn't Sebastian or Claude. XD Sorry if that last bit puts the wrong idea in your head.)**


	14. That Reaper, Deduced

**A/N: Guess who's back! :D Hello again you lovely people. Hiatus over, yay! XD I've just been wicked busy this summer...started off by going to Washington D.C., then family came to visit, birthdays, just got back from my family's vacation to Mt. Rainier National Park yesterday...(first time camping! GORGEOUS place, but mosquitoes used me for target practice. ._.) Not to mention a virus I got, which screwed things up for a bit. Anyway, 41 reviews? Oh, God, I love you all so much! *glomps everyone* Hope you enjoy this chap (and the new preview pic, hehe), which turns signifigantly darker. Also, as reward for waiting for so long (once again, thank you all! *happy tears*), I'll let you guys in on a secret- while this is far from over, a sequel is in the plannings. ;) And with that, here you all are, the long awaited chapter 14!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14- That Reaper, Deduced<strong>

That awkward moment when you see a few silver hairs in the black clump and think about how bad it would be if the murderer was an old geezer.

Beating up an old guy on your death list anyway would just look really, really bad on your record.

I had been studying it almost religiously the past few days, desperate for something- _anything _deducible from the glossy obsidian strands. I had kept it tucked away safely in a pocket inside my waistcoat. I wasn't going to let anyone else soil it or know about it at all- for once _I _wanted to be the one to figure something out. Everyone else always got their chance and took all the glory…but hell, this was MY case!

And Ronald's but no one cares about him.

He wasn't much to worry about anyway. He'd come over, pretending to be interested, go "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh" then walk back over to his girls, wave and walk off, calling back that I was doing great and he'd go investigate "stuff at the bar". Because all serial killers sit around drinking pints waiting for reapers with their ten girls at any given time to come and arrest them.

Of course, I get…fidgety if left unattended, if fidgety is the right word.

Seriously. William woke up with an ink monocle and handlebar mustache on his face and Grell just about blew his top to see bored finger paint doodles on my wall with his makeup. It's not like I can help it or anything! I always need something to do and when I fry my brain with looking at exactly forty six strands of hair (I counted. That's how bad it was.) all day I get in trouble.

Oh boo-hoo, Mr. Sutcliff sir, I have a murder case on my hands and you're whining about missing an ounce of eye shadow.

My mind was on wild overdrive, tossing and turning as much as me in bed at night. I laid down and sighed, tucking my hands behind my hand and staring at my ceiling, fresh raven colored, mascara-drawn swirls dancing across the plaster, chewing the inside of my cheek. I went over the suspects and alibis in my head again, running a hand through my messy hair in frustration of no solution being apparent.

No wounds, killed reapers, no connection between victims, three murders simultaneous…

C'mon, c'mon, the solution was staring me straight in the eye- but I guess I just couldn't see it with my glasses off for the night.

I sighed of defeat and sat up, sliding the thick, nerd-hipster chic shaped spectacles onto my nose to rest in front of my standard set golden-tinted lime eyes. I adjusted my gray cotton sleepshirt and plaid bottoms- custom made, thank you- and twisted the knob on my oil lamp, setting my room aglow with a soft, smoothed dusky yellow.

I got up to make myself some coffee. Nothing clears the head like a good cup of joe. Something fuzzy touched my bare foot, making me jump. I looked down.

Another clump of hair?

W-what-? I bent down to pick it up, twirling it between my fingers. It looked nearly identical to my previous sample, different enough to show that it wasn't just mine that fell on the floor but similar enough to show that it was another.

A wave of excitement toppled me, but I was instantly drowned by a tsunami of seizing fear. That meant that whatever it was…was here.

In my room.

I clung to it and glanced in front of me. Oh, God help me.

There was another.

I inched slowly towards it, the next a few feet away. I scooped it up and palmed it in my white-knuckled fist. And there was another, and another…all in a perfect trail.

Sucking in a breath, I twisted my door knob and slid through, swallowed by the shadows of the night darkened hall. But just enough light from the flame in my room spilled out to illuminate the path laid out by the tantalizing evidence. My common sense was burning up, screaming to turn around, but curiosity and desperation to figure it out quieted it, sending me forward.

The trail twisted around the corridors. I tiptoed past dorm doors in order to follow it, a thin glaze of nervous sweat damping the strands in my left hand. I wasn't sure what I was scared of- perhaps I was terrified of what I would find.

I wound down the main staircase, my eyes straining against the dark, only my heightened touch and the feeling of the glossy hairs beneath my toes assuring me I was going the right direction.

Clouded moonlight tapped at the glass of the doors, highlighting the continuing trail silver. I nudged opened one and slid outside, shivering as goosebumps prickled my skin from the low, damp temperatures.

I kept following it, the hairs thinning and thinning until they dispersed in front of a large dark splotch on the concrete in front of the building. I frowned and crouched in front of it, gently jabbing at it with a finger, covering my mouth to muffle the yelp as it clung to my fingertip.

A warm, sticky, dark liquid…oh no.

Terrified, I looked up.

Dark shapes were outlined against the dark sky. The shapes were irregular and all seemed to be stacked in a mound in front of me. I bent forward and nearly tore up my throat trying to hold back a scream.

They were bodies.

Bloody, mangled, lifeless bodies, all in a heap, lined sterling by the moon. The bodies were suit and glasses clad, the ones with their eyes open showing glazed-over sonic green double irises beneath. Us. Reapers. Death gods. Eighty or so dead ones, towering above me into the sky.

The one closest to my feet was chest down with the face sideways, tilted to the right to face me. The eyes were closed, the clothing nearly identical to everyone else's, injuries indistinguishable to another's…but only one had those stupid white shoes and ridiculous two-toned, messy hair with the flyaway bangs stirred by the breeze.

R-Ronald.

I was paralyzed by pure, utter horror. I think I was screaming but I wasn't sure. I might've dropped to the ground next to him once my knees buckled.

I was too late.

* * *

><p>The next sensation I felt wasn't death as I expected- just a hard surface.<p>

I gasped, my body raked with violent trembles. What just happened? My head was so scrambled I couldn't process a single sane thought.

I shakily looked up. My bedstand.

I looked over. My bed.

I looked the other way. My closet.

I looked down at myself. Me. Unharmed, not covered with black hairs.

My head spun. It-it-it was a dream.

A nightmare. A complete, utter nightmare.

I clutched at my chest as if to prove that this was real, that _I _was real. My heart was thumping wildly in my ribcage, blood still pounding in my ears. I had never been that terrified in my life. It was all too vivid…

I rubbed my head. Falling out of bed doesn't tickle I guess.

I stumbled back into it, pulling the covers to my neck and letting out a puff of air filled with relief. It was all a dream. None of it was real. I blissfully closed my eyes.

They shot open again when I felt something drip onto the back of my neck. Faster than the speed of light I had leaped out and pressed my back against the opposite side of my room, chest heaving with shallow gasps of terror as my eyes darted over my wall.

A message, written in blood, scrawled the length of the plaster.

_You want your answers, little death gods? Come and get them. _

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><p><strong>AN: I saw a bunch of people doing this and I thought it might be fun...up for an ask Chastity, anyone? ;3 Send in your questions to our dear beloved title character-**

**Chastity: OI! **

**-and they'll be answered in my next post. Thank you! **


	15. That Reaper, Stage Played

**A/N: LET ME TELL YOU. ABOUT HOMESTUCK. ...So guess who got into that. (Irrroonnnyyyy) And for the 894752093485th time got reobsessed with the musical. XD Anyway, I've now broken 3000 hits...all I can say: th-thank you all! Really, this is amazing for me! :D I appreciate all the hits and every single review, favorite, follow I get, I wish I could thank you all individually and give you all cookies~ ^^ Huggles for all. So enjoy this next chapter as it gets even darker yet... (Ask Chas answers at the bottom, feel free to keep sending them in!)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15- That Reaper, Stage Played<strong>

Everything was a blur. A terrified, hazy blur.

I couldn't sort my memories out straight, all my recent ones melding together in a blood and terror filled whirlwind circling around in my head.

This time, I was pretty sure I screamed.

I felt like I kept fading in and out of reality, unsure what was real and what wasn't anymore, but wasn't sure what anything was in the first place.

The first time that I came too that I could really remember was me, hyperventilating, choking on sobs that threatened to suffocate me, a gentle voice breathing in my ear. "Chas. Chas, it's okay, it's going to be okay. Chas, calm down, please…"

Gentle leather clad fingers tenderly, soothingly stroked through my hair, glided down my back while calming words were whispered to me. I felt the hand disappear from a moment to grab something then replaced with a pleasant tingle of warmth draped around my shoulders. Something soft- down, perhaps?- encased my upper body and I shuddered. "Blanket. Helps with shock, which you're obviously in."

My breathing painfully gradually slowed to normal, my hare-foot-thumping heart turning to more of a constant stricken base drum in my chest. Still faster then usual but not as though I felt it'd burst.

I felt careful arms encircle me and the curve of a smile press against my forehead. "Oh thank god you're okay. I'd never seen you that scared before! Boss put me in charge of you, the other chaps are over there inves...hey, um, can you hear me? You couldn't before...which would make this kinda awkward..."

I buried my face just below the neck, mumbling into white cotton and past that, slightly tanned flesh. "Of course I can, you moron."

"'You moron'? I've never been so happy to hear you call me that...must mean you're okay!" The blonde gave me a relieved squeeze and went on in an unfittingly chipper tone. "God, you really scared the hell out of us...screamed in the middle of the night, woke a bunch of us up. We all came running. You were on the floor, white as a sheet, looking totally traumatized, right? With the words on your wall...we got a team up there investigating, like I was saying before. They're taking blood samples and all that to see what they can figure out. Also got some blokes by the front door over there." He motioned to a tightly packed group huddled by the main entrance, mumbling rapidly to each other, eye poppingly yellow caution tape warning not to enter strung around the scene. "That's one of the scariest things about this...means our security's breached. That's bad. Really bad. We're reapers, so we require a top-notch, state-of-the-art security system which we have. It's flawless and has never once failed...until now. SOMETHING figured out how to get inside, SOMETHING not reaper. For all we know, after you...any one of us could be next." He went silent for a minute, then sniffed and scratched his cheek and continued. "Expect to be interrogated later...Boss tried questioning you to see what you knew when we first arrived but you were so deep in a panic attack you didn't respond to anything, so he put me in charge of you until you got better. So hello, here I am. Probably cuz I know you better then anyone else."

Suddenly his voice dropped to a serious murmur that sent chills to rake down my spine, eyes darkening as they locked onto mine. "But that's just it...I know you better then anyone else. I know that bloody words on your wall alone wouldn't be enough to send you into a state of terror so pure and absolute you couldn't even breathe normally or respond. There had to have been something else. The others don't know that...but the others don't know you."

Goddamn him for being smart. Life would be easier if he was a dumb blonde like those airheads from general affairs. I glanced away. "You'd think it was stupid."

"Whether you got attacked by the murderer or mauled by a stuffed dinosaur I still want to know."

I drew in a shallow breath. "...I had a dream," I began at last. "Well, a nightmare, really. Basically, I got lured outside by a trail of evidence...and there were all of you, dead, bloody, in a big pile. You were at the bottom, various people scattered around...but god was it vivid, like every single detail was reality...I thought I was too late... But then I woke up and saw the words. Everything after that until know is a blur."

He frowned, deep in thought. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly raised his gaze to make spectacled eye contact. "...So you saw the words directly after you woke up? They weren't there before?"

I nodded.

"Your nightmare and the message... Do...do you think they're connected?"

"...Connected?"

"CHASSY, I LOVE WHAT YOU DID WITH YOUR PLACE! AUNTIE IS SO PROUD~!"

And here comes the Mood Ruiner, outlined scarlet by the overly flamboyant sun. "No, Grell, it wasn't me, I didn't-!"

But the truth was lost seeping into the stageplay of the red reaper. "Bloody words on the wall, now why didn't I think of that? Brilliant! Really brings the place together. Quite frankly I still haven't forgiven you for it but I'll give it to you- the eyeshadow DOES make a nice smoky contrast to the room. Can I hire you to design mine?"

I twitched. "Grell. I. Did not. Do. The. Words. The murderer snuck in and wrote them while I was sleeping."

Grell pouted. "Oh, well that's a disappointment. You could've had a great career..."

"...Look, I'm traumatized here because my room got broken into by a murderer who wrote a scare message in fresh blood for me, I'd rather not talk about interior design."

"Fussy, fussy, are we today. Fine." He huffed and put his hands on his hips. "Eldon, darling, come here."

A young-looking man- a newbie if I had to guess- snapped his head up at the name, and came hurriedly over, stumbling awkwardly. He had pearly gray hair and small, fine features that made his full moon glasses look enormous on him and nearly bounce off his nose with every step. "Yes, sir?"

Ronald frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "…The hell are you?"

"Don't be so rude right off the bat, Knoxie! This is Eldon, a student in the class that Will's teaching part time. He's still new, obviously, so he gets to observe from the best...me! Isn't he just a wittle cutie pie?" Grell squeed (no, literally, he squees. It's scary.) and pinched the poor boy's cheek until red showed on his skin.

Been there, done that, so I felt some sympathy for the kid. "Easy now, Grell, don't kill the rookies," I chided, gently pulling the whimpering student from his grasp, earning a breathy, "Thank you, mister."

"Miss," I replied snappily in irritation.

"Miss. Sorry." Two disturbing thoughts popped into my head. One; me and Grell probably both heard that sentence a lot. Ew. Two; ...if it was anything like Grell's case I was never getting a guy.

I should note males have interesting reactions when they feel like they're being threatened or being overprotective...even about their positions. Ronald scowled and walked up to Eldon, sizing up the quivering mass of newbie and glaring him down. "Let's not forget. I'M Mr. Sutcliff's subordinate. And will always be. And even if I'm not I'll always be his favorite, and don't forget. I'm a brilliant 3.9 GPA honor roll student and I'm not letting some silver haired tot take my spot. Kapeesh?"

"K-kapeesh?"

"...I apologize for the Casanova over here, he hasn't had his coffee today yet." I gave Eldon, terrified, a hopefully soothing grin and pulled Ronald aside, wrapping my blanket around me tighter. "Wow. You just cannot make good first impressions, can you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coffee. If you want happy Ronald then cough it up."

"Why, you're ever so welcome, I'd be pleased to. Thank you for your manners!" I stuck my tongue out and filled the pot with water, sliding the crushed coffee beans into the mix and slipping it on over the oven to heat it. I glanced around the kitchen, smiling fondly at the blistering, peeling char marks decorating a patch of wall.

That peanut butter and jelly sandwich sure was fun to make.

A curl of smoke wafted from the stove. Ah. Coffee's done.

I whipped out steel mugs and tipped the elixir of the gods in, stirring some sugar into mine and milk into Ronald's, then carried them both out. "Got it!"

I was aware of how quiet it was in this section of the library, where last names M-L were kept, as opposed to the current ruckus of the front section. It was a welcome change.

I saw tufts of blonde sticking out in an unruly fashion over couch arms of overstuffed leather, gloved fingers right next to them. Curious, I walked over. More messy strands fell on smooth skin and into black framed glass, a suit jacket hanging up over the back of the couch, revealing a slim body curled up and nestling into a corner...

Aww. He fell asleep.

_Resist urge to dump coffee on him, Chastity, resist it. He was just being kind of an ass but he'd kill you. And all the other times he's kind of an ass...no, no. You're stronger then this._

I sighed gently and set the mug on the stand next to him. "Night, Ronnie." Ronnie. It had been ages since I called him that.

I tugged close the drapes and walked quietly upstairs.

Plus. Revenge isn't as fun when the other person is THAT helpless.

Well, actually...

...Nope. Stronger then that.

* * *

><p>One moment I was floating.<p>

Then, falling.

Then being clutched onto by a weak, trembling hand, desperate pleas piercing my eardrums.

Why...why was I laughing.

This was funny. This was amusing.

Victims come so easily... So stupid.

I turned to the pathetic being crying out, having let go of me and curling into a screaming ball. I couldn't make out the details of the victim much but I could see it's outline quivering violently, clutching at it's temples, tears streaming down cheeks.

I snarled something and flicked my wrist, causing it to scream louder.

Ha. Such weak minds, these fools! Such frail existences even if they themselves don't realize it!

They talk big and proclaim themselves high, but a simple slash of a blade and they're done for. Lifeless corpses lying under thunderous, cloudy skies.

My stomach growled and gnawed at my insides with sharp little claws them seemed to rip at my throat.

I hissed out a, "Oh, shut up, we can eat soon enough," in response, then glancing back up at the terrified victim.

I could hear the stupid heart beating in it's chest, every thump quickening with adrenaline and horror.

Measly creatures.

Shame, I didn't have a blade on me at the moment to stop the endless cries of the life form on it's knees in front of me, which was getting rather annoying.

Well, even if death wasn't an option, I still knew how to quiet it.

I walked up to it and kicked down on it's chest, sending it to hit the floor back first, coaxed a high pitched whimper. I had broken it enough with what I was doing earlier so that it didn't put up much resistance. Perfect.

I bent down over this stupid creature, gently putting to fingers to the sweat-slick forehead. "Shh, shh," I whispered soothingly. "Go to sleep."

I drew in a sharp breath and pressed my fingers down. The air split with a hiddeous yowl then went absolutely silent.

That's more like it.

My work here was done.

Oh...no. There was more I could do!

Giddy with excitement over my idea, I slipped out a matchbox and ran it quickly along the side, setting the little red bulb aglow. I gently tapped it to my left and blew a little for encouragement, swelling with pride as I watched my little something extra unfold.

The victim already had a cut dividing it's forearm in half, which was less work for me. I drew my nail along it to coax it open more, wetting my fingertip with the blood, and completing my work in my signature fashion.

I licked the remaining substance off. Hm. Tangy, but not bad.

Footsteps dimly reached my ears, and my smirk widened.

They could search and search for evidence and find nothing.

I could simply disappear...

* * *

><p>I gasped sharply and shuddered, cold sweat covering my body, shivering although I was covered head to toe in plush blankets.<p>

Holy-

That dream was, in a way, more terrifying then the last. I _was _the criminal. I was inside it's head. I knew every thought it had, controlled every action, and I...

I...

Oh my god.

Before I could blink I was up and sprinting from my room, sprinting faster then I ever had in my entire life. If my nightmare had even the slightest glimmer of truth...

M-L.

I dug my heels into the tiles as I screeched and skidded to a stop, sobs raking my throat as I collapsed to my knees at the sight.

The books were all set aflame, turning the room into a blazing ring of a fire.

Blood scrawled chilling three words on the floor in the midst of the inferno; "You're too late."

And in the center of the flaming room, on the couch, eyes frozen open in fear, motionless, expressionless, breathless...

...laid Ronald Knox.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: BWAHAHAHAHAH soonahappiernote.**

**1.) From poison1234-**

**Q: So, other then the fact that you hate our beloved William, what do you think of him? And give every answer you can think of, OTHER then that you hate him (since that's pretty obvious).**

**Also, with this creepy dream that you had, what do you think of the case so far?**

**A: Whoa, whoa, hate is a strong word...just loathe, perhaps! Alright, alright. Um...I don't know, I don't spend much time dwelling on his positive qualities, I just have a hard time seeing them. He's...smart...? Ish? I guess? And...has shiny hair. Yes. I'll admit, I like his hair. Other then that he's a total ass, but he has pretty hair. Right! The case. It's scaring the hell out of me. Er, would be. If I got scared. Loosers. **

**2.) From Ms. IV-**

**Q: what are the female reapers like and have you talked to any of them before?**

**A: Yup. They're...kind of douches. Well, not kind of, they pretty much are douches. IMO. Nuff said.**

**3.) From NightShadeShovel-**

**Q: Which way do you think Ronald swings? Also, what gender are you and how do you know?**

**A: Quite frankly I thought that guy was gay as a sparkling teal unicorn on Disneyland's It's A Small World at first. Then I found out he's a ladies man, hits it off with chicks...now I just think he's as gay as a sparkling teal unicorn on Disneyland's Space Mountain. And I'm a friggin GIRL, you moron. And I know because...because...because guys don't have it going on up there. God, that sounded awkward. Also, if you're having a son, don't name him Chastity. That'd be a really stupid boys name. I think I can tell what gender I am, thank you.**


	16. That Reaper, Descending

**A/N: ...That awkward moment when there's a girl in your math class with short hair named Chastity who told the teacher she wants to go by Chas and you and your friend _flip out _and everyone's looking at you weird... (Yay! Quick update this time as a reward for being THEBESTFANSEVERWITH54REVIEWS , I present to you this short, vague which-will-be-explained-later chapter that gets very, VERY dark...)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 16- That Reaper, Descending<strong>

I don't cry.

I've never cried, and I never will.

Especially over some stupid, cocky, flirty, annoying, know-it-all blonde.

Even if he was…

If he was…

No. I wasn't crying.

My eyes were watering. I had something in them.

So I was hunched over, burying my face in the body's chest and weakly clutching onto the cotton fabric of the shirt through blood-drained white knuckles, my eyes watering through the top, staining the skin below with the salty droplets.

But I sure as hell wasn't crying.

"Wake up," I whimpered desperately into the cold flesh. "Wake up, goddammit! C'mon, wake up, wake up, wake the goddamn hell up or I swear to god, Knox, I'm going to kill you, wake up _right now_…"

The speck of dirt or dust or whatever in my eye was really irritating it now, because the consequential tears were flowing even harder.

I felt a strong, gentle hand on my shoulder, which, if not for the light squeeze it gave, I wouldn't have noticed. "Miss Kingsley."

I was shivering, my voice cracking on every pathetic attempt for a word I could muster. "Wh…what, William."

"Are you alright?"

"Do I _look _alright?" I hissed back sharply.

There was a beat of silence, before my steady, calm reply snapped it like a twig underfoot. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're sorry. Everyone's sorry. That's all I've been hearing all day and it doesn't. Change. Anything."

I almost surprised myself at the stabbing, violent bitterness seeping into my voice. Part of me was struck by a pang and a loud mental _Quit whining, Kingsley_ and the other just…didn't care. Wanted to give up.

The goddamn idiot was lying still on a white bed in the infirmary, hooked up to all kinds of machinery, those few who had taken the medical course in favor of the usual departments hurriedly dashing around, whispering hushed murmurs to each other in low, grave voices, marking down on their clipboards, monitoring him.

But it was hopeless. I knew it was in the pit of my stomach.

I'd take any explosion, battle, scar, slap, beating any day then this. This was the worse pain I had ever felt.

And not a single bruise to show it.

I had been there the countless hours he had, forgetting to breathe more often than not. The doctors kept gently telling me there wasn't much of a point in staying here, but I swore at them and stood my ground, stubborn as a mule and refusing to leave.

What? You're expecting some comedic line to make you laugh? To lighten the mood?

What am I supposed to say? What the hell do you want me to say? My dumbass of a best friend was _dead_. And if you can still laugh if that happened to you…you're more soulless then a demon's prey.

D-damn it all.

My eyes were watering harder, tiny streams rushing over the cold flesh of his neck. "I-I'm going to kill whoever did this," I whispered, amazed my vocal cords could work so well. "Kill. Them. But slowly, after torture and torture and torture, breaking them down until they're as broken and black inside as I am…and then, only then, when they beg for mercy with tears coming out of their lifeless, pathetic eyes, _then _I'll kill them. And they'll scream out the unimaginable pain when their throats are-"

"Miss Kingsley, that's enough."

I went silent. He was right. I was going overboard with my plans.

I'd stop talking, but I had no intentions of not going through with it when I got the chance.

"...You can take the day off."

"Take the day off?" Seething, I whipped around. "William, get out of your perfect little business world and see that other people are _dying_. Ronald Knox is fucking _dead_, do you hear me. I'm not going to have time for bloody _paperwork _when my partner is DEAD, do you understand that concept, you asshole. I told you from the very beginning this was a suicide mission and look at what the hell you did. Let us do this. Let us be _killed_."

The violent bitterness had switched to a lethal, malicious poison, dripping off of every word, syllable, letter coiling out of my mouth.

Even he took the hint and backed up just a half step, almost an invisible moment but the equivalent of bracing yourself for death for William. He gave the slightest of nods and looked down. "I am sorry."

"Get the hell out of here."

"M-"

"Now."

I didn't even look back to know he had left.

My fingers trembled as I reached down to brush locks of unruly blonde and black behind an ear. "…I'm sorry, too…"

* * *

><p>I smirked.<p>

The incompetence of these creatures…

That pathetic yellow-haired teen with the dark on bottom was _way _too easy, though watching him beg on his knees for his life was somehow satisfying, fulfilling.

My stomach gave an impatient, whining growl, and I rolled my eyes. Dammit, I needed to get food. I was starving, I'll admit to that. But it's not like I was in the upper class and could get rich foods whenever I wanted. I was more of a scavenging bottomfeeder, but armed with my sharp wits, reflexes, and deceptive skills, I could twist anything into anything of my own liking. I was perfectly fine with my position, and I certainly wasn't going to work for morsels. I didn't have time.

I glanced over the edge of the library upon my perch of the ledge, seeing the soft rolling hills of England curve and roll around, encasing the streetlamp lightings of London. They were probably out milling about like I was, only I was much more tactical in my approaches. With no real purpose here other than to sit back and admire my work, I figured I'd get back to them and check in.

Maybe they found something to eat.

* * *

><p>Silence. Long, cold, hard, dead silence.<p>

Nothing. Void.

Echoes of shadows bouncing off tiles.

…_Beep. Beep. Beep._


	17. That Reaper, Madness

**A/N: AHAHAHA GUESS WHO'S GETTING GOOD ABOUT UPDATING. So, a couple things...one; just rewrote chapter 1 cuz I wrote it like seven months ago and have improved in my writing and developed Chas more since then, and Ill redo chapter 2 later- but I'm tired right now from writing two full length chapters in a day, lol- but I'm good with the story from then on. Second; extremely important chapter. Prepared to go "WUT O_O". ...Thats all I'm gonna say. Read on, darlings~ And thank you again for all the reviews and hits. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy and give me the motivation to keep writing, so this is for all of you. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17- That Reaper, Madness<strong>

I killed him.

I killed him.

It wasn't me but I killed him.

I had struck him down, his begs and screams music to my ears, set the books ablaze and left his battered, fragile corpse on the couch in a twist of sick, sick irony…

These dreams.

What was wrong with me?

Was I the killer?

No, of course not. I was just in the killer's head.

But why?

Every night, as soon as the dark wing of sleep overtook me, there I was, another one dead crumpling to my feet.

And then it'd cut off.

I couldn't deduce _anything_. All I ever saw was never showing the killer, motives, or method- just enough to see the deaths I had caused. It was maddening.

Enough to drive me absolutely insane.

But even more terrifying was sometimes I didn't know when I was awake or asleep.

I'd snap under stress and curl up in my room, tears, hot and salty, drawing rivulets on my hands…and when I opened my eyes again to horrified screams, blood.

I was pretty sure I had locked myself in my room for a couple days now, but I wasn't 100%. It was pushing me to the brink of stark raving batshit crazy, which, in all honesty, I may have already crossed the border.

3,4, 1, 2, 1, 2-

Dammit.

A yelp tore out of my throat as I instinctively balled up and clutched the back of my neck in a defensive position, the cause of my actions of only revealed after I swallowed my adrenaline and quieted myself. A knock at the door. (I wondered how deep my paranoia had grown if someone knocking was enough to send me into a blind panic mode.) I mumbled out an entrance permission and the doorknob twisted, torturously slowly swimming open to send gusts of air to feather my sweat pants and shirt clad body.

In popped a shaky, pale head topped with a silky mop of sterling tresses. "Miss?"

"Eldon," I breathed in relief, glad to recognize the young face of the red reaper's subordinate. "Hey."

He looked down at silver platter he was clutching, the white mug on it rattling against the metal in time with his trembles. "I-I brought you coffee."

"You're amazing," I replied quickly and gratefully, bringing the warm, comforting, I-forgot-how-much-I-missed-this liquid and drank for the first time in days.

"We're worried about you, Miss. Especially Mister Grell sir ma'am."

I glanced downwards, muttering, "Yeah, I'm worried about me, too…thanks. I'm just…long story. Anyway, thanks. Oh, I already said that, didn't I? Ah, dammit…"

He sat next to me, a gentle frown upon his face. "A-are you okay?"

"Yeah." I pinched my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. "Yeah. Bad dreams and stress over Ronald. And…it's complicated."

Eldon nodded quietly in solemn agreement. "Bad dreams. I can relate to that."

I looked up at him in surprise, but it was obviously uncomfortable for him, as he wouldn't meet my eyes and was trying to change the subject. "I think you should go down, Miss. Let everyone know you're okay. We've been trying to come up for a while but you've been locked up here for a couple days, M-…Miss?"

I had set my coffee down to stare, biting my bottom lip, at the quilting of my bed, running my fingertips over it.

Coffee…

Ronald…

My vision was getting watery again…

F-fuck it…

Why wouldn't they stay dry?

* * *

><p><em>"Chas, we got a test tomorrow!"<em>

_The energetic, annoyingly Cockney-accented reached my ears and I glanced up, cross legged while lounging back on my bed, tie loosened and waistcoat unbuttoned and rolling my eyes. "Fantastic."_

"_We should study!" he chirped, completely univitedly hopping onto the opposite end off my mattresses, sending me bouncing with a startled yelp. "I wanna do good on this assessment, y'know?"_

"_Blondie, how long is it gonna take you until you realize I don't care?"_

_He just grinned and pulled me tight- against my will- and giving me a friendly knucklehead which hurt like hell and messed up my already messed up hair. "Ah, so negative!"_

"_Idiot, let go!"_

"_Cheer up!"_

"_Off!"_

"_Oh, you really should button your shirt up more."_

"_It's the end of the workday and I'm going to slap you for looking as soon as you let go!"_

* * *

><p>...That moron had sat right where Eldon was-<p>

Wait, where did Eldon go?

"CHASSY! THANK GOD~!"

Why did it always come to this…?

Grell burst in and rubbed his cheek against mine in relieved affection. "You're okay! I heard your door open and I just couldn't resist coming up to see you!"

"Ow…please get off…and good to see you too…"

Grell glanced over my shoulder at the mug, frowning. "Coffee? Still warm? Have you been out before?"

I blinked. "No. He just came up and gave me some. Dunno where he went, but tell him thanks again…"

"He?"

"…Your subordinate…?" I replied slowly.

"No, Ronnie's dead…"

"Eldon!" I answered in exasperation. "Eldon! Your student! You just sent him up to check on me!"

His frown deepened. "Who's Eldon?"

* * *

><p>I awoke to sobs.<p>

Not my own. Higher, more feminine. "Chassy, how could you!"

And Grell's.

I groaned and stretched, rubbing my eye and looked up, eyesight still blurry from sleep. "Eh…? Grell? Boss? What's going on?"

My eyes focused and what the hell why was I in a holding cell. I looked up and what the hell why were William and Grell standing on the other side of the glass pane that now imprisoned me. And what the hell why was Grell crying.

William's eyes were hard and cold, trained on me, seeping through my eye sockets and glaring out the back of my skull. "I can't believe it. _You_, of all people. How did you make such flawless alibis? Where you deceiving Mister Knox on investigations and then killed him when you found out he knew too much? Why did you do this?" I jumped at his fist slamming against the glass and whimpered.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about!" I cried, cowering into a corner.

"Liar!" hissed Grell, ruined mascara outlining black pathways down his cheeks. "You filthy, filthy liar! I don't see why we shouldn't just kill you right now and paint the library red with your dirty, lying blood!"

Pleaseletthisbeadreampleasel etthisbeadream… "Wh-what? Seriously, I have no clue what you're talking about! I woke up and I'm in here! What did I do?"

Grell literally shook with fury. "Like you don't know!"

"I don't!" I pled, quivering.

"We witnessed you in the act, Miss Kingsley. Red handed." William's glasses glinted harshly under the blindingly white light shoved into my eyeballs. He stepped aside to reveal a lifeless corpse of a fellow reaper staring blankly at the ceiling.

…Oh…o-oh god…

Swallowing hard past the painful lump in my throat, I looked down at myself.

His hairs clung to my waistcoat.

His sticky red blood covered my hands.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *insert evil laugh here***

**..On an unrelated note...**

**I was listening to a hell of a lot of Vocaloid while writing this. XD And the more I listen the more World is Mine reminds me of Chas ("The number one princess in the world and you better treat me that way!" ...Nuff said...) and the more SPICE! reminds me of Ronald. (...Just go listen. o/ / /o)**

**A/N Edit: Apologies, I may have confused people outside the intended. ^^' So the beginning is her in her room basically going crazy and developing paranoia, Eldon comes in, the italics paragraph is her memories, Grell comes in and talks to her, then a time skip with her waking up from a black out to such. Hope that helps, and thank you all for your reviews! :) You'll be rewarded with answers and explanations very soon, I promise.**


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